Opening Doors
by RedGrayBall
Summary: After the events of 'One Day, One Room', House ponders why he feels more ready to open up to those around him... particularly Cameron.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first piece of fanfic (not just my first _House_ fanfic), and I hope you'll enjoy it. Thanks for reading!**

**Regards,  
-RGB**

* * *

"He's still in there." 

Chase continued packing up his bag as he replied "So what? He has his music on. He probably fell asleep."

Cameron shook her head in disagreement, not turning away from the glass wall separating the conference room from House's office. "He's not asleep. He's just sitting there. He's hardly moved in an hour, and he's been in there for more than two."

This was enough to merit a brief glance towards the glass wall from Chase, but not enough to actually interest him. "Well, it's home time for everyone else. He can stay in there all weekend if he wants. See you Monday."

She turned her head slightly and waved, but Chase had already walked out. She rolled her eyes and returned to contemplating the connecting door to House's office. Chase was right; it wasn't unusual for House to spend long periods listening to his music, and he'd occasionally doze off. This time, though, she could just see through the gaps in the blinds that he was fully awake. The blinds were also drawn, and the lights in the other room were off. Something was on his mind, and she was curious. Perhaps a little worried, though she'd never have admitted that to Chase or Foreman.

After another few moments of thought, she walked out into the corridor and around to the main door to his office, and knocked. There was no reply, but that was hardly out of the ordinary. She sighed, turned the handle and walked in.

House was sitting back in his chair, feet on the desk and hands behind his head. His gaze didn't move from the roof as Cameron approached. The music was soft jazz, which meant he was both sober and in a contemplative mood. She stood silently, waiting for some response, and after a few moments he glanced toward her and raised an eyebrow.

"I'm... just heading out. Did you need anything else?" she said, studying his face as much as the dim light would allow.

"Nope. See you Monday." He held eye contact for a few seconds, seeming about to say something more, then nodded and glanced away again.

Cameron opened her mouth to speak - _Is everything ok?_ - but realized how futile and ridiculous the question would be. This was House, after all. She sighed inwardly, and turned to leave. Her hand was on the door-handle when he spoke again, startling her.

"Do you think people are defined solely by the experiences they've had with other people?"

She turned back slowly to face him, surprised but trying to seriously consider the question. "Well, I think people are the sum of their experiences plus hereditary traits. Their personalities are also influenced by how they want other people to see them."

House smirked, still not looking at her. She was trying to leave her answer open, to draw him out. How very Cameron.

"And which has most influence?" he asked, swinging his left leg off the desk and lifting his right down to the floor. He watched her intensely and with noticeable amusement in his eyes as she thought for a moment.

"I guess... experiences? Environment. We learn to be who we are."

House nodded, seemingly in agreement; that had apparently been the right answer. She noticed his brow crease into a frown for a moment, and then his face became expressionless again.

"See you Monday." he repeated, and turned in his chair to face directly away from her. Clearly, this was her cue to leave.

_Have a great weekend_, Cameron thought, and stepped out into the corridor. She couldn't help but take one look back before closing the door, but she could only see the back of his head in the gloom. Even after working together for three years, the man remained a mystery to her. There was something else this time, though; something about the 'conversation' they'd just had. She couldn't put her finger on it, but it troubled her.

Cameron shook her head as she put on her jacket and picked up her bag. She'd have to figure this one out later.

* * *

It was after 6:30 pm before House thought to check the time. That meant he'd been in his office for almost four hours now, thinking about the week that had just passed. He'd spent more time with a patient this week than during the last year or so of patients combined, though not by choice; the girl, Eve, had insisted on speaking only to him. She'd been raped, and refused to talk about her ordeal until House had shared a trauma from his own past. He eventually had, and the girl had duly began talking about what she'd gone through. It was a positive step, for her at least. A significant step. 

What had been occupying his mind these past few hours was that having spoken to her (or rather, to _anyone_, much less a complete stranger) about his relationship with his father as he grew up was also a significant step for him. He wasn't convinced, however, that it was also a positive one.

Eve had said that a person's life was the sum of the experiences they had with others, and could be viewed as a series of rooms you're stuck in for a day or so with each person you encounter. _Meaningless analogy_, he thought. Perhaps it was, but it stayed with him nonetheless. The idea of rooms certainly conveyed what for him was an important caveat regarding memories and experiences; that some rooms, once left, should be kept locked.

The question was, why had he chosen to reopen this one now? He could readily have lied to Eve, convincingly, and the outcome would presumably have been the same. There was no reason that his story had to be a true one. He'd kept the truth of his father's abusive nature from everyone, even Wilson. And yet he had told the truth this time. He spun his cane between his nimble fingers and frowned.

_When the chance to open up came along, I took it. Now, unlike every other time. The patient is gone now, so no consequences. But still... why?_

And more to the point, there was the newer question which had kept him there in the gathering dusk for another 90 minutes after Cameron had left. Why had he then began to bring the topic up _again_ with her?

_Because that's what I was doing; no use lying to myself about it._

He stood up awkwardly, pausing to let blood flow back into his legs after sitting for so long. Pacing could bring clarity to almost any problem, but pacing for any extended period was difficult when you lacked a right thigh muscle. That had never stopped him before, and it wasn't about to now.

Cameron was a mystery to him. Some parts of her were as easy to read as the latest Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition. Her pathological empathy, her optimism, her fundamental and misguided belief that people are basically good and noble. But she was also unreadable in other ways. Exactly what it was that motivated her past attraction to him. How she continued to put up with his gentle, and sometimes not so gentle teasing and even ridicule with a dignity that the others couldn't maintain.

_And whether she still... And how she feels now._

He had made it through into the conference room and over to the coffee machine, when the thought stopped him. He was strict about not allowing himself to think of her that way. He was _particularly_ strict about not admitting to himself that most nights, as he lay awake waiting for the last Vicodin of the day to take its full effect and allow him some sleep, he thought about her that way nonetheless.

And if he was suddenly becoming aware that he might be capable of opening up to her? Well, that would be a problem, and would be best avoided as usual. _Too little, too late anyway_, he thought, then immediately frowned. That was also _not_ an acceptable thought, on a day in which he'd already had too many. Time for some coffee, perhaps a little more pacing, and then home.

The coffee machine began to warm up with its characteristic bubbling noise, but House barely noticed. Lost in thought, he was entirely unaware that his eyes rested on the chair almost always occupied by Allison Cameron.

* * *

Just once - _once_ - she wished she could leave House at the office. Cameron had gone home, changed, and quickly discovered she had nothing for dinner, necessitating a frustrating Friday evening grocery shopping trip. She had now returned from the store, and was in the process of putting away her groceries when it hit her. 

_He was talking about himself._

Her mouth fell slightly open as her hand paused in mid-journey towards a package of pasta. _The patient. This has something to do with the patient._

She stood up, and began pacing, unconsciously mirroring the man she was thinking about, though they were miles apart. House and the rape victim, Eve, had been at the jogging park that week, and she had started talking about what had happened to her. She had also said earlier that she wouldn't discuss it with House unless he offered her a comparative tale from his own past; Cameron knew that much because House had asked her and every other member of the team for advice on what he should say.

_And Eve talked. She talked, after saying she wouldn't talk until he did. So, he talked first. Then he started asking me about whether a person was defined by what's happened to them in the past. My god._

The need to put away the groceries had vanished from her mind as she quickly shrugged on her jacket and grabbed her car keys from the kitchen table. Dinner would have to wait.


	2. Chapter 2

When House raised his red mug for a sip of coffee only to find that it was already long empty, he decided it was finally time to go home. The Cameron Question, as he now thought of it, would have to wait at least until he'd got the bike home, ditched the jacket and shirt, and ordered some takeout food.

His leg was also beginning to play its same sad old song, so it would be best to make the journey sooner rather than later. He could take another Vicodin before leaving, of course, but after the whole Tritter debacle he preferred to ride with as few opiates in his system as reasonably possible.

The hospital was enjoying that quiet lull in the mid-evening of a Friday before the walking wounded from bar fights and domestic incidents started showing up in their droves, and he was out of the building less than 5 minutes later. Three minutes after that, the disabled parking space his bike usually occupied was once again empty.

* * *

House frowned for most of the ride home, but for the first time that evening it wasn't due to his own brooding. It was the speed he was traveling, specifically how _low_ it was. Friday night wasn't a night for _Bat Out of Hell_ shenanigans. Too many cops with too little to do, grumpy in anticipation of having too _much_ to do for the next 12 hours. Sticking to the speed limit was the wise choice, and he was in no mood to see the inside of a cop shop again so soon. 

Even riding at the posted limit, he made it home in barely ten minutes, parked the bike, and stepped off. He unclipped his cane and steadied himself, but before he could climb the few short steps to his townhouse's front door, he glanced around as he heard a car door open nearby. This new-found habit of reacting to sudden noises was a product of the shooting, no doubt. He grimaced at the memory as the figure stepped out of the shadow of the car.

_Cameron. Now that's just a little bit fascinating in this context._

She waved shyly, unsure of herself as she often seemed to be. He noticed that her face was slightly flushed, though - there was an urgency to her gait despite being on the uncertain ground of confronting him at his own home. He had to admit to being not unhappy to see her here, and was frankly instantly burning with curiosity as to why.

"Lost again, Dr. Cameron?" he smirked, noting that she carried no handbag and looked slightly pale despite the twin patches of color on her cheeks.

"I'm sorry to bother you at home," she began, leading House to momentarily marvel at her obsession with politeness regardless of context, "but I've got to ask you something." She glanced downwards for an instant, breaking eye-contact as she saw one of House's eyebrows rise slightly, but she quickly recovered.

"In your office, earlier... you were... I think you were going to tell me something. I think you were going to talk about whatever it was you told Eve." She said this last part almost defiantly, daring him to disagree, but as she continued looking at his eyes she began to lose confidence. As usual. _I swear they get more blue when it's dark_, she thought, causing an involuntary shiver of complex emotions which she hoped he couldn't see.

His stare was unnerving to say the least. His eyes burned with such intelligence and wit, and they could hold incredible cruelty. But they had also witnessed life's random cruelty, and she was sure that those scars weren't all that lay beneath.

Moments passed as he simply looked at her, looked _into_ her. The points of light from the streetlamps seemed to multiply in his eyes, and she could almost hear his mind whirring and working, an infinitely complex machine which, given time, could strip any puzzle or deceit down to the most basic strands of truth.

"Well... I just wanted to say that, if you want to talk, I'd like to know what it was you were going to tell me," she finished, again glancing briefly downwards.

He looked at her as she made this offer, and noticed her eyes darting away for a moment, as she was surprised by her own directness. It took considerable effort for him to avoid smiling wryly. She was endlessly fascinating.

_And beautiful._

He frowned, breaking eye-contact himself for the first time. Where did that come from? He glanced up again, and saw the doubt in her eyes. The doubt, alongside thousands of points of reflected light, which continued down her long hair draped carelessly over her shoulders. He felt a sensation in his chest; something stirring. A noise from within another locked room, this one perhaps more ominous than the last. His frown deepened, even as he suddenly knew what he was about to do.

She saw him frown, first slightly and then more noticeably. _Damn. This was stupid._

She smiled weakly, nervously, and half lifted her arm to wave farewell before realizing how bizarre the gesture would seem. She quickly turned away and began walking back to her car, closing her eyes for a moment to stave off the awful feeling of embarrassment which was growing. Driving across town to tell him she'd like to hear what he was _maybe, supposedly, perhaps _going to tell her? _God_. This would be fun when it came out on Monday.

"You've not had dinner yet."

It was a statement, not a question, as always. Of course he knew, somehow. She turned around, car keys in her hand. "Not yet, no." Where was he going with this? Was he going to tell her to go home and eat something?

_And here I am, hoping he'll ask me to have dinner with him. After how last time went. I must be crazy._

He saw the guarded expectation in her eyes and in the slight tilt of her head, and suddenly the feeling was in his chest again. Her thoughts sprung into his mind with brilliant clarity and brutal force. She had come here because she had realized what had happened in his office. She had dropped everything, even foregoing food, to offer him a second chance to open up to her. She had done all this, and yet even now she kept herself guarded, always wary of a barbed or dismissive comment. In that moment, he hated himself, and he looked away from her, silently ashamed.

His mind worked relentlessly, even though he would rather abort the analysis; the curse of his needle-sharp insight into the human condition. She had come with this offer of a connection, and even if she no longer felt for him what she had surely felt before, that only made her act even _more_ singular - reaching out to someone who had never allowed her to truly count him even as a friend. He would have groaned, if he was capable of showing that weakness in another's presence.

And, of course, there was the matter of his most recent question about whether she'd eaten; it was plain she was now half-hoping for an invitation of some kind. Strangely though, there was no conflict there.

_I asked her because I'm going to invite her in anyway._

Yes, that seemed true. The far more dangerous question of whether 'in' meant simply into his townhouse or something far more significant was pushed to the side. He glanced up to meet her eyes, which still betrayed uncertainty.

"You like Chinese food?" he asked as nonchalantly as he could manage, and had to suppress an outright laugh at the comically stunned look which flashed across her face and then vanished just as quickly. it was replaced with a smile of such apparent significance that it struck him harder than another round of gunfire, and for an instant he was sure he would sway on his feet.

_Hope. That's hope_, he thought, and began to feel a barrier weaken inside him. This was turning into quite a night for personal revelations, and it seemed to have scarcely begun.

Cameron nodded, smiling. She did like Chinese food, but frankly she'd have agreed almost regardless of his culinary choice. She knew she needed to be very careful here, and not read too much into the situation. House opening up, even slightly, was a dangerous event to be involved in, and vanishingly rare. But like all rare things, it was also potentially wonderful for that same reason. She couldn't have brought herself to leave even if she had wanted to.

_And what does that tell you? _she wondered, but there was no answer for that question yet.

He nodded, moving his gaze to his front door as he began to move towards it. She took a quick, deep breath and pocketed her car keys. By the time House was unlocking the door, she was only a few steps behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn't her first time in his home, but she was no less nervous for it. House had told her to make herself at home and had gone through to the kitchen for the takeout menu, discarding his jacket in a cupboard. Cameron was standing beside his piano, running her fingers soundlessly over the keys. _He thinks here_, she thought. She could all too easily picture him sitting in semi-darkness, playing something forlorn as he wrestled with whatever puzzles and demons occupied his mind on a given night. It was a lonely image, and she frowned.

"Do you play?" he asked, and she jumped. He could move quietly when he wanted to, even with the cane, and she hadn't heard him come back down the hallway.

"No. Well, I played a little when I was growing up - I guess everybody does - but not for years now."

He nodded slowly, seeming to consider her for a long moment, and then shuffled to the sofa, depositing the takeout menu on the coffee table. He sat down, and looked over at her once more. _Well?_ his expression said.

She took a step away from the piano, and stopped. "What's changed?" she asked, and he could hear it wasn't a rhetorical question. _There she goes again_, he thought. _Pre-empting me now. You know me better than you might realize, Allison Cameron._ But he kept those thoughts to himself.

"I'm not sure," he answered, honestly, glancing away again. She could tell he wasn't finished, and waited in silence.

"Something. With me." He seemed almost academically amused by this fact; how could something possibly have changed with _him_ without him being aware of what, and when and how and why? She smiled slightly as she realized he was amused that only his own mind could truly stump him like this.

Glancing up, House caught the smile and knew its meaning effortlessly. He allowed himself a half nod and a rather bashful smile in return, and she instantly felt more at ease. _If it can be this easy now, maybe it always could_, she thought, walking over to join him on the couch. She sat down, leaving a safe distance between them.

"What did you tell her?" she asked gently. and House let out a small laugh. "Sorry," she said, again taken aback at her own directness. Why wasn't she letting him do this in his own time? _It's not like this happens often! Let him talk, Allison._

"Sorry, take your time. Really."

He stood up, picking up his cane from the coffee table. He didn't hold the urgency against her, and he understood it better than she did. She was no doubt chastising herself even now for potentially sabotaging a chance to get closer to the enigma wrapped in a mystery that he liked to think of himself as. But he knew precisely why she was pushing, too. _She's waited a long time for this. I thought it had been too long, but maybe that's not true. I think that will come out tonight._

This thought troubled him, as he realized he was intending to talk about more than his revelations to Eve earlier in the week. His eyes subconsciously flicked towards the door, ascertaining an escape route if it were to become necessary. He sighed and stopped pacing, still not quite facing her, and spoke.

"Everybody lies."

She was unsure what he meant; it certainly wasn't news that House believed that. He'd said it countless times before, particularly to her. She once again waited in silence for him to continue.

"That's not something you've learned yet, not part of your life experiences. Not a room you've been in." He added this last sentence bitterly, causing her to tilt her head slightly as she heard the change in tone of his voice. There was a pause before he went on.

"I've been in that room. The irony is that it was an Emergency Room. I was eight years old."

Cameron sat up straighter. She'd always assumed his mantra came from dealing with uninteresting patients, rather than an almost life-long belief crystallized in childhood. _Kids shouldn't believe that_, she thought, having to consciously prevent herself from saying it aloud.

"Go on," she said softly. It was almost half a minute before he continued.

"My father... was a disciplinarian. You could put it that way. He believed in making rules instead of following them. We were expected to do the following."

Images whirled through her mind. What did he mean? She'd met his parents, and the man had seemed... severe, in that characteristically military way, but the woman didn't seem overly cowed. Or did she? It was difficult to remember.

"What happened to you?" Her voice was very quiet, and carefully neutral. She instinctively wanted to go to him, but knew that if she so much as moved he might close up again.

"Hypothermia. Shock. Classic presentation; confusion, arrhythmia, loss of consciousness. Managed to avoid being defibrillated though. Small mercies." He still would not look at her, and she knew that this was the hardest part.

"How?"

"I left the hot tap running. Wasting electricity was a no-no. The sentence was... to take a bath in ice. He always had a better grasp of poetic justice than human physiology."

His words were black with old anger, but that wasn't all of it. Anger and bitterness were familiar shades in his voice, but this time she could also hear something new: shame. To hear House _ashamed_ frightened her, and for him to be ashamed of this was more than she could bear. She got up without a word and went to him.

His head was bowed, still not looking at her even though she now stood directly in front of him. "I'm sorry," she said. She truly was.

"Wasn't the first time. I think he got a fright that time, though. After that, sleeping in the back yard overnight became the hot favourite punishment."

So this had been a regular thing. His father had been abusive towards him. And this was just coming out now. There was no way Wilson knew; he'd been too nonchalant about House's parents visiting the hospital. This had been House's secret, which she now shared. She desperately wanted to touch him, to make physical contact, but before she reached out he spoke once more.

"I remember coming round with the nurses putting blankets over me. The ER doctor was taking my pulse, and I remember he looked angry. Didn't do much to calm the nerves." He shook his head briskly as memories of that old feeling came back; the feeling of having somehow misbehaved monstrously without being aware of what exactly he'd done that was so wrong.

"They could see what had happened; they could see the ice-burns. No way to cover that up. My mother said I'd done it on a dare. You believe that? A dare. Dad was out in the corridor, marching up and down. He looked angry. My mother looked scared. I remember her eyes. I hated her for _years_ after that. She lied." His voice was inflectionless now, and Cameron desperately wished he'd meet her eyes.

She reached out and grasped his forearms with her hands, and he at last looked up. His eyes were a stormy gray, not their usual vivid sapphire blue, and somehow that fact struck her almost as hard as the truth he'd told her. A tear slipped from the corner of her eye and rolled slowly down her cheek. Her hand dropped from his left arm as he lifted his hand to her face and wiped the tear away with his thumb.

"This is mine," he said, and she sighed with an equal mix of compassion and frustration.

"It doesn't have to be. None of it does." Her eyes were defiant but her voice was soft. His hand was still on her cheek, and she instinctively turned her head slightly towards it, closing her eyes. Had she kept them open, she would have seen that his eyes had also closed.

_I think I actually believe that_, he thought. He was utterly confused. He'd kept that tale locked inside for years, and whilst it wasn't exactly _easy_, it wasn't remotely as difficult to tell her as he'd always assumed it would be. His ego and carefully constructed gruff exterior didn't blind him to the fact that he was emotionally vulnerable right now, but the feel of her soft skin against his fingertips was electric. Again he felt the sensation in his chest, again the noise from inside the locked room. Or was it indeed still locked? Was the door not perhaps now slightly ajar?

He sighed, and her eyes flicked open, meeting his. They were blue again, she saw with wonder, and her heart leapt. Somehow, that had been _her_. In that moment, she knew that she loved him utterly. A smile bloomed on her face and her cheeks flushed a delicate pink.

The effect on him was like a hammer-blow. He looked and really saw her feelings clearly for the first time, unclouded by his own scars and insecurities.

_When did I fall in love with you?_ he wondered to himself, and her eyes widened as if she'd actually heard the thought.

His brow which had been momentarily creased with a deep frown had relaxed and a sparkle returned to his eyes even as she looked into them. His mouth opened but no words came out. Suddenly his hand dropped and he took a step backwards, breaking contact with her.

She glanced downwards for a moment in surprise as his arm was pulled away from her grasp, then she looked quickly back up at him, with a question in her face. He stared at her for a long moment. Something had changed between them, something large and heavy with both potential and repercussions. His instinct had always been to avoid such things, on the premise that the devil you know is better than the devil you don't. But that was not his instinct tonight.

Hesitantly, he raised his left hand, palm upwards, and held it in front of him. Her smile returned and she took a small step forward, putting her hand into his. His eyes gleamed and she swore she could actually see the machinery of his mind whirring to assimilate this new situation, but this time she didn't look away.

His lips curled into a lopsided grin that somehow managed to be smug and shy at the same time, and she took a quick breath.

"So... about that Chinese food," he said, and she nodded, but neither of them immediately moved.

* * *

An hour later they had finished eating and were sitting comfortably next to each other on the sofa. House had put on some music, and they'd been sitting in a companionable silence for the last few minutes letting the food go down and each wondering what the other was thinking.

House turned to glance at Cameron and she noticed he was smirking. "What are you smiling about?" she laughed, and he shrugged innocently.

"I'm just wondering whether to go for the 'yawn and stretch at the movies' maneuver."

"Hah!" she snorted, and poked him in the ribs with a finger. At the resulting comically hurt expression, she moved closer, and his face became serious for a moment. "Are you sure this is still what you want?" he asked, and she saw his eyes scanning for every tiny nuance of movement in her face. He still needed confirmation; still needed certainty, as much as certainty is ever available in such things.

"You are the most intelligent and insightful man I've ever met, but you're still a big dumb man."

He nodded in agreement, not breaking eye-contact.

"And yes, of course I'm sure. I never stopped... feeling this way about you, House. Just don't make me wait that long again."

He smiled, and there was both relief and a mixture of awe and sadness in it. _I'd have given up_, he thought. _But she didn't. And here we are. I finally woke up, after five years in the dark._

He lifted his arm and placed it around her shoulders, and she nestled into him, snaking an arm around his waist. Both were struck by how comfortable it was, and not just physically. Something new that was nevertheless completely familiar; a place they'd both been in their own minds so many times before.

He sighed once more, contentedly, and she heard it. This felt right, she thought. _I didn't dare to hope for this, but I'm here with him. Tomorrow can take care of itself._

She bit her lip at the thought of the next day. Being honest with herself, she worried that tomorrow he might think it had all been a mistake. She didn't think she could take being pushed away after finally being let in. Her train of thought was interrupted by a small laugh from him, which made her head bounce lightly against his chest.

"Quit that," he said, and she turned her head upwards questioningly.

"I'm not going to change my mind now."

She gasped and laughed at the same time. "How do you _always_ do that?"

"I'm just that good," he smirked, and she giggled. He thought it was maybe the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.

They were silent for a moment, then she pulled away and sat up slightly straighter beside him, one hand on his leg. Her smile faded a little, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Why didn't you want this... before?" she asked gently, without accusation in her voice. She just needed to know.

His head fell, but he nodded twice, acknowledging the validity of the question. He inhaled audibly and then looked at her once more.

"Maybe I did. Like I said, I figured you just wanted to fix me. I didn't want _that_; I don't want to be a project. That would only be a step backward for both of us."

"And now?" Her voice was very quiet.

"And now... I guess I realized that I win by default."

She frowned, confused. It sounded like a very House thing to say, but she couldn't make the words fit the question.

"You... win?"

He smiled kindly. "If this works out, then I get... well, I get _this_. I get... us. And even if it doesn't work out," - he glanced briefly downwards as he said it - "I still get to feel this way _now_. That's a lot, and maybe, if I can't have any more than that... well, maybe it could be enough."

Her smile returned, and she felt her love for him surge up again. Hearing him being clumsy with his words was also new for her, and so another thing that they - and they alone - shared.

"I want... what you're willing to give," he continued. "As much as I can get." He paused, glancing away as he reached for words. "I _want_ this."

He met her gaze again, and she could see the weight of the admission in his eyes, but also the hope. He'd forced himself to be alone for so long, and being miserable was his shield to keep others away. _At a safe distance. But now I'm here. He finally opened the door, and he opened it for me._

Another tear slid down her cheek, but he made no effort to catch this one. They both leaned in at the same moment, and their lips met. It was slow and gentle, with no urgency. His hand came up to cradle the side of her face, and her hands were on his shoulders. They didn't part for more than a minute.

When they did finally break the kiss and she opened her eyes, the warmth in his eyes almost brought her to the brink of tears again. _I think maybe he loves me_, she thought, and her stomach flip-flopped in a not unpleasant way.

"You're beautiful," he said softly, "and it only took me three years to tell you that."

She smiled and shook her head - _how long it took doesn't matter now_ - and he nodded, returning the smile.

"Hey, I knew already," she said, batting her eyelashes, and he laughed out loud; a deep, honest, carefree laugh the likes of which she had heard from him only very rarely. It was a good sound, and it was even better that she was the reason for it.

Cameron once again let her head slide down into the crook of his shoulder and put her arm around his waist, and House draped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer against his chest. His other hand stroked her hair, and she smiled contentedly.

"Stay here tonight," he said, almost too quietly to hear. It was neither a command nor a plea. She slowly looked up into his eyes, and saw her own feelings looking back at her.

"OK," she smiled, and he closed his eyes, resting his head on top of hers.


	4. Chapter 4

House woke up aware that something was different. The fog of waking parted enough for him to realize he was not alone in his bed, and he glanced downwards. Allison Cameron lay curled beside him, her head on his shoulder and her arm across his chest. Her hair fell across the top of her back, and he could feel her heartbeat through his own chest.

The previous evening returned to his mind with perfect clarity. Meeting her outside his front door, his admission of difficult truths from the past, the kiss. How they had sat holding each other until late, and then easily walked through to his bedroom together. How they had made love for the first time, how she had taken care not to allow him to strain his leg, how it had been sweet and passionate but also gentle and loving. How she had fallen asleep first, and how he had watched her sleep for almost an hour before he too closed his eyes. How he had neither needed nor even thought of Vicodin before bed. How he had hoped, as he drifted rapidly off to sleep, that this was indeed real.

"And a Merry Christmas to all," he whispered, smiling broadly. Hearing his voice, Cameron moved and made a small sound, beginning to wake. He watched with interest and, he had to admit, intense affection. Not that that would stop him teasing her when the opportunity arose.

"Dr. Cameron, you're already an hour late for work," he said quietly, with a smile in his voice.

She wrinkled her nose for a moment, and then her eyes flew wide open.

"Wha...? What's going on?" she said, still not quite awake. He laughed, and she continued to goggle at him for a further moment before frowning and smiling at the same time. She poked him in the ribs once again, drawing a satisfying yelp.

"OK, OK - no pranks until you're fully awake, I got it. And it's Saturday morning, so if you're late for work, it's by more than an hour."

Her eyes were closed once again, and he laughed as she gave an exaggerated pout at the mention of work.

"Much as I'd like to lie here all day, I need to make a trip to the little boys' room, then get some coffee and maybe some pain relief, in that order."

She sighed theatrically, reluctantly moving off his chest. "Mmmm, coffee. Bring me some too," she said, eyes still closed.

"Yes, your majesty," he replied, pulling on pyjama trousers and yesterday's t-shirt and picking up his cane from the floor beside the bed where it had been discarded last night.

By the time he returned from the kitchen five minutes later, Cameron was sitting on the side of the bed, wearing one of his shirts and tapping her feet on the carpet nervously. He handed her the cup of coffee he'd carried through, and she smiled.

"You're even prettier first thing in the morning."

Her smile widened and she blushed slightly, holding the steaming cup with both hands.

"And I haven't changed my mind, so _relax_," he said, and saw her shoulders loosen slightly.

"Sorry," she said. "Things can just seem different in the morning." He raised one eyebrow, and she quickly continued, "Oh not for me either. I'm happy to be here with you, House."

She immediately frowned slightly, and he knew the cause. "You know, some people have even dared to call me Greg. Seems crazy, I know. But give it a whirl," - his eyes twinkled with mischief - "_Allison_."

She immediately smiled at hearing her own name spoken by him, though it would take a little getting used to.

"OK... _Greg_. Greg _House_. I'm having morning-after coffee with _Greg House_," she said with a smirk, partly gently mocking his ego but also partly trying to get used to now being on first-name terms after thinking of him simply as "House" for so long.

Suddenly her eyebrows shot up and he gave her a questioning look.

"Oh I was just thinking..."

"... thinking about...?"

"About how you're _House_, and you're now also... kind of..."

House grinned. "Your boyfriend?"

She immediately blushed deeply and giggled, nodding nonetheless.

House put one fist on his hip and stared off into the middle distance with a smug look on his face.

"I like it. I like it, _Allison_," he smiled. "And now I'm going to go get my own coffee. Only one free hand at a time."

She tilted her head in thanks for him having brought her coffee first, and he moved back through to the kitchen. He picked up his cup and turned to head back to the bedroom, but was stopped by two sharp knocks at the front door. He immediately instinctively grinned guiltily at the idea of having a visitor with Cameron - _Allison_ - still in the bedroom.

He heard hurried soft footsteps and saw her leaning around the door-frame from the bedroom, mouthing "Who is it?!" He could only shrug, and made a shooing gesture - _stay in there for a minute_. He also waggled his eyebrows suggestively, drawing a stern but amused glare from her.

He shuffled over to the door, and glanced through the peephole. _Wilson. This should be fun_, he thought, genuinely tickled by the idea of speaking to his friend with his new girlfriend concealed in the bedroom.

He opened the door, and Wilson looked at him appraisingly for a moment before speaking. "Still rather early for you to be up, isn't it?"

"And yet here you are," House replied, stepping aside to allow the other man to enter.

"Yes, well I was reasonably nearby and thought it would be easier to come over than to try to leave a message on your machine for you to accidentally delete."

House knew what Wilson meant; he had deleted his messages on that same machine the last time Wilson had crashed here, after the breakup with Julie. He decided to simply put on a hurt expression, and Wilson smirked and shook his head before clearing his throat to continue.

"Well anyway, I just wanted to let you know that the hockey tickets fell through, for which my contact profusely and uselessly apologizes. So it seems you have your Sunday evening back for the usual more important activities, like videogames and agonizingly gradual self-destruction."

Wilson's tone was cheerful enough despite the weight of his words, and House could only grin in response and nod. Wilson glanced around in readiness to leave, and only then noticed the two place-settings on the coffee table, complete with last night's Chinese food. He looked puzzled for a moment, then his gaze snapped back to House, eyebrows raised.

"Wait... did you... have a _date_? You had a date _here_, last night?"

By way of reply, House simply tilted his head and smiled smugly. Wilson laughed in a way that was almost a gasp.

"With who? Who would go on a date with you? At your own place, particularly. That's not first-date material."

House made no reply, but narrowed one eye as if to say, _Come on now, Jimmy, put the pieces together._ Wilson frowned with momentary concentration, then glanced down at House's pyjama trousers, then back the coffee table, then back at House's still tight-lipped smirk.

"Oh. Oh god. She's -" his voice dropped to a whisper and he hunched his shoulders slightly, "- _still here?_"

"_Bingo_," House replied, in the same exaggerated whisper, and was enormously satisfied to see a blush spread across Wilson's face.

"I am so sorry," Wilson spluttered, raising both his palms towards his friend. "I'll be on my way then." He marched quickly towards the door, but stopped with his hand on the door-handle as he heard a noise from down the corridor. Specifically, he heard a woman giggling, and he blushed an even deeper shade of red.

"Come on Jimmy, no need to run off. I think I'm well and truly busted."

Wilson looked at him with confusion, still flustered, then froze as he heard House's bedroom door creak slowly open, then some soft footsteps padding down the hallway.

Both men looked towards the point where the hallway opened onto the living room, and after another moment, Cameron stepped shyly into view, still barefoot and wearing House's shirt, which went down to just above her knees. "Hey Wilson," she said breezily, and House grinned wickedly.

"But... you... she... House?" Wilson stammered, looking back and forth between them with his mouth agape. Cameron was blushing slightly but clearly enjoying Wilson's shock, but she was secretly enjoying House's obvious smug satisfaction even more. _He owes me for this big-time!_

"Ahem. Well, good morning. Good morning, Cameron," said Wilson, having regained a degree of his normally unflappable composure. Cameron nodded and smiled sweetly, and Wilson turned his attention to House. "Clearly we need to talk. Clearly we needed to talk yesterday, even though we didn't."

House laughed and shook his head. "Trust me, Jimmy, I know you want all the _gory details_, but I'm not going to kiss and tell._ Yet_." He shot a look at Cameron and she raised an eyebrow before smiling conspiratorially.

"Oh, and quit staring at my girlfriend's legs. I'm _right here_, man."

Wilson's gaze snapped back towards House as if he'd been stung, and he blushed deeply once more.

"I certainly wasn't... _staring_, I can assure you," he protested, and then raised his eyebrows again. "Wait, wait. At your -" he glanced briefly at Cameron, "- _girlfriend_? Did I slip into a coma last night?"

Cameron had walked over and now stood by House's side, and she linked her arm through his and smiled widely at Wilson's discomfort. Wilson watched this, taking in House's genuinely happy smile clearly visible through the smirk on the surface, and he exhaled loudly.

"Wow. This is... amazing. Actually amazing." The younger man smiled widely at last, then suddenly reached out to grasp both House and Cameron by the upper arm.

"I'm _thrilled_. Genuinely thrilled for you both."

They could both see it was true. _He really loves House_, Cameron thought, and felt immensely grateful to Wilson for having been there for House for so long. Wilson turned his head towards House, and said "Don't screw this up or I'll _break_ your other leg. Try not to be your old self if at all possible." House only stuck his tongue out, but his eyes betrayed his genuine affection for his friend.

Wilson's gaze turned to Cameron. "Try to forgive him for being himself. And on my own behalf, a sincere _thank you_." She nodded and laughed, noting House's comical pout at Wilson's words.

With that, Wilson gave their arms a brief squeeze, and then turned and let himself out the door as House held it open. Wilson stepped away from the door then half-turned back to face House.

"Oh, and -" his voice dropped to a stage-whisper as he nodded in Cameron's direction, waggling his thumb and pinky finger in the air, "- _call me_!"

House snorted a laugh in response, and shut the door. He smiled down at Cameron as she put her arms around his neck.

"So what do we do now?" he asked.

"Well, I'd like to take a shower and have some breakfast, and then I'd like to at least go home and change."

House nodded. "Cool. I'll follow you on the bike."

She raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Oh? What are we doing today?"

"We'll figure something out," he grinned, and kissed her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for the kind reviews! As requested, I'm continuing the story, and I have plenty more planned. I'm on vacation for a week from the 19th til the 26th June, so look out for more updates from Weds 27th. Oh, and reviews make good holiday reading. ;)  
-RGB**

* * *

The jogging park was already reasonably busy even though it wasn't yet 11:30 am, owing to the warm weather and the fact that the weekend had just begun in earnest. A few heads turned to glance briefly at the black and orange Honda motorcycle as it entered the parking area, its engine whining waspishly, but they quickly returned to their own activities. It was just a couple taking a trip to the park on a sunny weekend, after all.

House cut the engine and flipped the kickstand down, and Cameron stepped off the bike, removing the helmet she wore; it was House's, who wore simply his sunglasses at the moment so that she could have its protection. For perhaps the fifth time during the short ten-minute journey, she resolved to buy herself a helmet as soon as possible. _I don't like him riding without this._ This was not the time to bring it up, though. Knowing House, he probably knew what she was thinking anyway.

"I look way cooler with these," he said, indicating his sunglasses which he'd now taken off; "We might just make that _your_ helmet. I think Wilson even has a unicorn decal you could use." She saw the lopsided smirk on his face which confirmed that he did indeed know her train of thought precisely, and she could only roll her eyes and laugh.

It was sometimes a little frightening how well he seemed to read people, but it was also exciting. There was a big risk involved in trying to keep any of your thoughts from Greg House, but she knew that that was what made him so enticing. _I always wanted to believe you could know someone so well that you always knew what they were thinking. I think... I think I finally have a chance of that._

This thought brought a frown. It was self-evident that House could read her clearly, but so much of him remained elusive to her. She desperately wanted to change that, but was unsure how to begin.

_I think that if I knew him as well as he seems to know me, there's nothing we couldn't get through. His leg, the Vicodin, his father... nothing._

House had finished securing the helmet to the bike with a lockable chain, and he unclipped his cane and stepped around the bike to stand beside her. She smiled at him for a moment before speaking.

"I wish I knew what you were thinking," she said, and he grinned.

"That _is_ what I was thinking. Wondering what _you're_ thinking, I mean."

She took his hand, and they began to walk towards the main path through the park; a tarmac road lined with trees on one side and a large open grassy area on the other.

"I mean, I want to know about you. And I want you to know about me. I want us to do this... properly."

His eyes had been following the path ahead of them as he listened, and he nodded as the finished.

_There's the shape of something here_, he thought. _Not like with Stacy. This won't be a competition; Cameron's not like that. Allison's not like that. And I think that means we'll be honest with each other, maybe even from the start._

"I want that," he said, and she looked up at him as he continued. "I'm just trying to figure out what to ask you."

"You can ask me anything," she said, and he frowned slightly.

"It's more about what I actually want to know. I think of something to ask you, then I think of why I shouldn't ask. Things I don't actually want to know the answer to."

She stopped walking, tugging slightly on his hand, and he turned to face her.

"I don't want anything to be taboo, Hou... Greg. There are things I'm scared of too, but they're part of you, so I want to know anyway."

His listened to her words, and she could see his mind working. After a few moments, he nodded, seeming to confirm something to himself, and he looked at her once more.

"That's why we're here."

They began to walk again, and House nodded his head to indicate a line of picnic tables set back from the path, behind a row of trees and bordering on the river which ran parallel to the park.

"This is where Eve told me each day of your life is a room. You're in that room with one person, and the experience changes who you are."

He stopped speaking for a moment, and she could see he was arranging words in his mind before going on.

"Whatever changed with me, it changed here. _This_ is the room I was in," he said, glancing across the grass and then up towards the vivid blue of the late-morning sky.

_I started this here, a few days ago_, he thought. _Talking about... things I don't talk about. And it was with a stranger._ He felt brief wave of sadness, and finally realized why he had brought Cameron here. He stopped and turned to her.

"I got used to it just being me. You think you'll get over things, but you just get used to not getting over them. I always figured it would change eventually. I'd talk, I'd feel better, the past would be the past."

She took his hand and nodded at him - _Go on._ He sighed.

"When I talked, it was with a _patient_. I figured it would be Wilson, or... someone I cared about. I thought it might be you, for a while. But it was just _someone_, and it was here, in the park."

He shook his head, clearly frustrated. She understood some of his feelings, and she had expected this.

"Greg, I'm glad you talked to her. You did a good thing, and if talking to her is what let you talk to _me_ then it's even better. Wilson would say the same thing. Sometimes it's easier to talk to someone you don't know. Sometimes you just need to take the first step."

She squeezed his hand, and he glanced down at their interlocked fingers. He considered her words for a long moment, then raised his head. She searched his face and recognized the expression. _That's how he looked last night when he said he wanted this,_ she realized, and her heart momentarily quickened. At last, he spoke.

"I want it to be our room now."

She heard his words, and the meaning behind them assembled and gained colour and clarity in her mind over the space of only perhaps a second or two, but it seemed to her like much longer. The entire park faded into the background as she looked into his eyes.

_Our room,_ she thought. _He brought me here because he was here when he opened up. And he wants me to be the one he's here with from now on._

She knew the magnitude of what he had said despite the innocuousness of his words; that had always been his way, after all. He had opened the door for her last night, and he had finally allowed her to come in. And now, he was asking her to stay.

Cameron's vision blurred slightly with tears as she put her arms around his neck. She could find no words to reply, except for the most dangerous words which she kept unspoken only with a huge effort of will. She loved him, and she knew at that moment that it was not any type of love she had felt before. Despite the hardships in his life, it was not based on pity or charity. Despite the pain of her own past, it was not based on comfort or a shared grief.

_We're the same person,_ she thought, and she was stunned by the truth of it. This was where she was meant to be. A loneliness which she had never before even suspected to exist was suddenly lifted.

She felt his arm pulling her tight against him, and the brush of his lips against her forehead.

"Thank you," she said against his chest.

"Thanks for waiting for me." His voice was quiet, and he rubbed the palm of his hand slowly up and down her back.

After a minute or so he kissed her forehead again and they moved apart.

"Come on," House said, taking her hand once again and tilting his head in the direction of a nearby picnic table by the river. "This is it."

They walked over and Cameron ran her hand across the scarred wooden surface of the table section for a moment, and then sat down. House eased himself down opposite her, laying his cane out beside him on the bench, and he reached his hand across to her. She took it, and smiled tentatively.

He grinned back at her. _And now she's nervous. That makes two of us. _But he knew this was right. She'd wondered incessantly about him almost since the moment they first met, and he'd kept as much as possible hidden away. _It's time to fix that._

"Ladies first," he said. grinning once more. "So what do you want to know?"

He enjoyed seeing her eyes momentarily widen at having been put on the spot, but she quickly recovered. She raised one eyebrow as her eyes flicked towards the river and then back, trying to decide which of the dozens of possible questions she would ask first. She needed only a few moments.

She met his eyes once more, and House felt a flutter of apprehension, but he smiled. This was good. Cameron saw his smile, and her eyes silently told him yet again the words neither of them had so far dared to speak.

She squeezed his hand, took a deep breath, and began.


	6. Chapter 6

"I need to know why you didn't get back together with Stacy," she said. House frowned slightly at the mention of the other woman's name, but he nodded too. He had been expecting her to bring this up, of course.

"It's maybe none of my business, but it also kind of is," Cameron continued. "She came back into your life with a new husband, after everything that had happened between you and after all that time, and there was still... something. I think you nearly went back to her."

Her hands were clasped in front of her on the wooden surface of the picnic table, and she was now looking down at them as she spoke.

"It's... I just think that we need to be honest about this up-front. We've been through too much to get here, and if she could come back sometime and..." Her voice trailed off, but her point was clear to both of them.

House was silent for a moment. This wasn't a new topic for him, by any means, and he also knew how she felt. It was natural for her to want reassurance, and it was equally natural for her to resent herself for having actually had to ask.

_I forgot how complicated this can be_, he thought.

She had looked up at him now, tentatively, and he took a deep breath before speaking.

"After Baltimore, she said she was going to tell Mark it was over. Said she wanted to stay here with me," he said. She looked away immediately, assimilating this confirmation of what she'd first suspected and then later convinced herself hadn't happened.

"I told her not to."

She looked back up again quickly. "Why?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

House was the one to look down at his hands now, gathering his thoughts.

"I told her I'd only push her away again. It would work for a little while, then it would break like it did before."

She heard his words, but couldn't quite accept them. If he truly thought that it couldn't work where it had worked before, then surely the same could be said about any relationship he might have. _Even this one_, she thought, but she immediately banished that image before it could overwhelm her.

"Might even have been true," he suddenly continued. startling her out of her own thoughts. "We had a lot of history, and the recent stuff wasn't good. So it wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the reason."

She waited for him to continue, unaware that her hands had clenched tightly together. He looked at her for a long moment and then smiled a sad smile, shaking his head slightly. She could swear that her heart missed several beats.

"Stacy coming back really messed with your head." Once again, it was more of a statement than a question, but she nodded. She was suddenly near tears. When House spoke, she could hear some of the sadness of his smile in his voice, but she also recognized the ghost of his pedagogic tone; the one he'd always use when limping around the conference room, lecturing them impatiently on his insights into their latest case.

"Her marriage was in trouble because Mark had mobility problems, and I've heard that that can make a guy hard to live with," he said, smirking weakly at his self-deprecating remark. He reached forward, and after a moment she took his hand on the table as he continued.

"She was running away again. Different guy, same story. Stacy runs when it's not easy anymore. The scary part is she didn't know she was doing it."

Understanding began to dawn in Cameron's mind. _I knew this_, she thought. _I knew it, but I didn't consciously accept it.__ That's exactly what she was doing._

"When _this_ happened," - House nodded downwards and to his right side, and she knew he meant his leg - "she ran. Sure, she stayed for a while; that was guilt. In the end, she ran."

He reached forward with his other hand and took her hand in both of his, squeezing gently. His face was sombre, and she knew that he wanted to make certain she understood what he was about to say.

"Stacy and I are done, and it's _because_ of what happened to me. You're here _despite_ it. And that's -" His voice caught, and he blinked and swallowed. "That's why I'm an idiot for trying to tell myself I didn't want this."

Tears were sliding freely down her face now, but she was barely conscious of them. What she did know was that she was actually smiling, in disbelief at herself. _He's right.  
_

And at last, she realized that the months (and even years) of waiting had actually had a purpose. She had been quiet and persistent, and somehow that had proved to him that she was genuine, in a way that no words ever could have. Maybe in time she could even be glad that Stacy had reappeared. In time.

He squeezed her hand again.

"You were right," he said quietly, and she knew there were many layers of meaning in those simple words. She wiped her eyes with her free hand and returned his smile. It was some time before either of them spoke again.

* * *

"It's your turn," she said brightly, clapping her hands together, and he couldn't help but grin inwardly at hearing the happiness in her voice. He was also glad they'd finally talked about Stacy, and that she could hopefully put those fears behind her. As much as she could ever put a worry behind her, anyway. 

"Are we still doing that? I thought it was charades now," he quipped, drawing a raised eyebrow.

"OK, OK. Umm...", he said, stroking his chin in mock concentration. _He's avoiding asking something_, she realized, frowning slightly. Suddenly, House snapped his fingers, having seemingly settled on an ideal inquiry.

"What," he began, pausing meaningfully, "color underwear do you have on?"

She laughed and rolled her eyes at his bad-little-boy expression. _Definitely avoiding something_, she thought, nevertheless amused and amazed at how one man could bounce between the most gravely serious topics and mischievous immaturity.

_I bet his son would have that exact same look._ The thought came suddenly and unbidden, and her stomach flip-flopped for the second time in as many days.

"Light blue. And if that's the best you've got, then maybe we _should_ play charades."

He tipped his head - _touché_ - and after a moment he sighed and his face became serious.

"Just one question," he said. She felt a thread of nervousness, but tried not to let it show.

"Why me?" he asked, he was slightly taken aback to hear her laugh again.

"You're _still_ on this?" she asked, genuinely amazed. _I told myself about a hundred times I was being stupid to think he was insecure about himself. But he is, even now._

She folded her arms and looked up towards the sky, wearing an exaggerated frown of concentration. House watched her, more anxious than he was attempting to show.

"Well," she said, looking at him once more, "it's not the leg. The leg isn't a factor either way, though I wonder if you'll _ever_ accept that."

She looked pointedly at him, and he could only smile slightly and nod. She took a deep breath and continued.

"You're brilliant. You're make me laugh, and sometimes cry. You care about what you do, and you don't care _too_ much about what other people think of you for that. I think that's the main thing; you didn't stop caring. I think people think you burned out after your leg, but you didn't. Even if you can't admit it yet, you _want_ to be happy again, Greg."

His smile widened and after a long moment, he sighed and nodded.

"And I kind of like the stubble. The jackets and the bike don't hurt either, but don't tell my mom I said that." She blushed and laughed girlishly and he couldn't help but laugh with her.

_I guess that's all I needed to know_, he thought, and he tilted his head slightly as he regarded her. She noticed him contemplating her and raised an eyebrow, silently asking what his thoughts were.

"So, just the regular reasons then," he said, and she nodded, squeezing his hand. _Now all you need to do is believe it_.

He was silent for almost half a minute, and then at length he nodded once more. _OK_.

_I think we just turned another corner_, she thought. And all of a sudden she again had to stop herself saying the words. _I love you. I love you. Surely you know that by now._

He looked at her smiling at him, and again noted how things had a way of standing still when she did that.

_What a difference a day makes_, he thought. The thing was, he believed her. A year ago, if they'd had the same conversation, he doubted he would have accepted that her interest in him was anything but tragically charitable, and driven by a damaged need in her. Maybe that would even have been true at that point, or maybe not. But this was real. This had much less complexity, and much more promise, and that was good on both counts.

_This is... normal_, he thought, and couldn't help but laugh out loud.

Cameron raised her eyebrows at his sudden laughter, but didn't ask. _Maybe you finally get it_, she thought, and she wasn't too surprised when he nodded.

House suddenly stood up. "I'm hungry," he said, and she realized she was too.

"There's a coffee shop over there," he said, pointing back down the path they'd walked along, and she got up and joined him on the other side of the picnic table as he picked up his cane. "Great reubens."

"Let's go," she said, taking his arm.

They set off back towards the parking area, passing many other visitors to the park as they walked. They drew no more attention than they had upon arrival. They were just a couple taking a trip to the park on a sunny weekend, after all.


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry for the slight delay in updating; this was quite a slow chapter to write. I've made an effort to keep House as in-character as the plot allows!**

**Thanks once again for all of your kind reviews; nothing is more encouraging for an author than seeing that readers have taken the time to share their thoughts on your work. Keep them coming. :)  
**

**All the best,  
-RGB**

* * *

Cameron watched House as he unselfconsciously tore into his sandwich. They were seated at a small table near the window in the coffee shop just beside the park. It was lunchtime, and the place was just starting to get really busy, but they'd arrived at just the right time to get a table. Cameron had ordered a pasta salad, and House of course had the inevitable reuben. 

_I can't believe it's not even been 24 hours_, she thought. Yesterday at this time she was in the cafeteria at work, and things were how they'd always been.

And it finally struck her: work. _What do we do at work? Probably keep it quiet for a while, I guess._

She felt the cognitive dissonance of having two completely opposing opinions at the same time. On one hand she saw the sense of keeping it quiet; there was less chance of other people causing problems, and Cuddy wouldn't have anything to say about it.

But at the same time, she couldn't help but want to go public with the news. _Even though Chase will do his hurt puppy face. Even though Foreman will tell me to be careful._

She realized that she could actually live with it either way, but what she was really interested in was what House wanted to do.

_He'll want to keep it quiet._ She was sure of it. But it wouldn't hurt to ask.

"Greg," she began, and he looked up, his mouth still full. "What are we going to do, you know, at work?"

He nodded, wearing a momentary expression of concentration, and swallowed the bite of sandwich before speaking.

"Well, a big part of it is dealing with patients. Somebody sick will come to the hospital. We'll do some differential diagnosis. You'll probably run some tests. I'll try to beat my best times on _Mario Kart_. We'll treat the patient, and they'll get better. It won't be lupus."

She gave him what he was fast realizing was her "frustrated but amused" smile. "I mean about... us. You _know_ what I mean."

"Oh _that_. Right. Actually, I kind of assumed you'd quit and stay at home from now on," he smirked, and she crumpled up her napkin and threw it at him. He caught it effortlessly, and then threw it over his shoulder without even glancing behind.

"What do you want to do?" he asked, pausing for a moment and then grinning. "I'm kind of looking forward to telling Chase."

"You're impossible," she said, but she was smiling. He raised one palm towards her - _OK, fair point_ - and shrugged.

"We'll play it by ear. I think I already got Wilson off my back, and I doubt Cuddy'll have much to say. Chase will do his best Antipodean pout and flick his hair, and Foreman will tell you be careful, _biznitch_. No big mystery."

She laughed out loud and simultaneously shook her head in a token show of reproachfulness. He was, of course, right. She was pleasantly surprised that he didn't seem particularly worried about whether people knew or not.

_But then, that's House all over_. This thought brought an unexpected flutter of nervousness about the working week ahead, though not of an entirely unpleasant kind.

She simply nodded at him and went back to her lunch, but not without noticing the thoughtful look on his face, and the vague smirk which accompanied it. The week ahead would no doubt prove interesting.

* * *

"OK, home please," said Cameron, as they approached the bike in the parking area. House raised one eyebrow lasciviously, and she shook her head. 

"Not for you. I need a few hours to do some stuff around my apartment," - she put her hand on his chest when she saw his face fall slightly, "- but you can come over later, say around 7? I'll cook."

He smiled rather smugly at this, and she shouldn't help but grin. Men tended to enjoy the idea of a woman promising to cook for them. It was one of the universal invariants.

"Let's do this," he said, and handed her the helmet as he climbed onto the bike.

With the cane safely stowed, sunglasses on, and Cameron's arms securely around his waist, he started the engine and retracted the kickstand. He still wore the same self-satisfied expression as he guided the bike out of the parking area and merged into the flow of traffic.

* * *

The noise of the engine, and the fact that Cameron was wearing his helmet, precluded any possibility of conversation during the ride, and so House focused on his own thoughts. 

_This is easy. These things are never easy. So why am I not surprised?_

The idea of getting back into a relationship had become distorted with the passing of five years; enlarged into something with so many variables and possible negative outcomes that for a long time it had seemed far easier to simply avoid adding that complication to his life. The prospect that something could begin as easily as this relationship with Cameron. with so little _resistance_, had never even entered his mind. And yet, it seemed to be something he'd known already. That was pretty interesting.

_We've been dancing around this for a couple of years now_, he admitted. _Me as much as her. Maybe we got used to the idea a long time ago._

That made some kind of sense. The question was whether it would stay this easy. He had a feeling it would.

House shifted up a gear and the Honda gratefully surged forward. The big liquid-cooled 16-valve engine had plenty more to give, and the miles between the park and Cameron's apartment rapidly disappeared.

* * *

Cameron stepped off the bike. handing the helmet to House with a smile. 

"Seven sharp," he said, and she nodded. After a moment she reached out and placed her hand over his.

"I'm really happy about this. I know it's going to work out."

He glanced downwards for a moment before meeting her gaze again, wearing his characteristic lopsided grin.

"I think so," he said.

She leaned in and kissed him, then with a brief squeeze of his hand she turned and went to the door of her building. She looked back to see that House was now wearing the helmet, albeit with the visor flipped up. _Good_, she thought.

He nodded a goodbye, and reached for the key in the ignition to start the bike, but was stopped by the sound of her voice.

"Hey, bring an overnight bag." Her face was as neutral as she could make it, but he saw her eyes flash.

He twisted the key in the ignition by way of response, and revved the engine twice in quick succession. Though he could no longer hear anything but the sound of the bike, he could see she was laughing, and blushing prettily.

She waved and he briefly returned the gesture as he engaged the clutch and pulled smoothly away from the curb. She watched the bike accelerate down the street and out of view, but she still stood looking off in the direction he'd gone for more than a minute before she finally went inside, still smiling.

* * *

Wilson clicked off the TV in his hotel room as he heard the sound of his cellphone ringing from the coffee table in front of him. Picking up the phone, he saw the caller ID on the screen: _House_. Raising an eyebrow without being aware of it, he flipped the phone open to answer the call. 

"Dating Advice Service," he said. "My name is James. How can I help you today?"

"Do you do on-site consultations?" Wilson could hear the grin in his friend's voice even over the phone.

"She dumped you already?" Wilson asked, frowning slightly.

"I've always appreciated your faith in me," he replied with mock seriousness. "I just left her place, not seeing her til seven. Why don't you drop by? We can braid each other's hair."

"Probably the best offer I'll get today," Wilson sighed. "Give me ten minutes." He heard the line go dead and smiled wryly. He'd have to have a word with Cameron about teaching the man some better manners.

_Or trying to_, he though, and picked up his jacket.

* * *

Barely ten minutes later, House heard a familiar two sharp knocks on the door, and shouted "It's open." 

Last night's takeout had already been cleared away, and he now sat with his feet on the coffee table. He barely glanced away from the hockey game on the TV as Wilson entered and took off his jacket.

House lowered the volume of the TV slightly as Wilson joined him on the couch.

"So," Wilson began after watching the hockey game for a few moments, "you and Cameron."

"Yup."

"Just since last night?" Wilson had wondered several times during the course of the day if so much could possibly have taken place in just one day.

"Yup."

Wilson briefly rubbed his temple with his right hand, and then turned to face his friend.

"What the _hell_ happened?"

"Been asking myself that all day," House replied. "Basically, it went down like this: ..."

* * *

Wilson had barely interjected as House described the events of the previous evening, including what he had told both Eve and Cameron about his father. It took only fifteen minutes to bring Wilson more or less up to date. 

"Wow," Wilson said, after a long pause. "I'm... not sure what to say. I'm sorry, about your father." He glanced towards House, who nodded without meeting his gaze.

"I'm still not completely convinced any of this is actually happening." Wilson's voice was quiet and contemplative. After a moment, he turned once again to face House.

"Do you want to talk about what happened with your dad?"

"Nope," House responded immediately, and then sighed. "Not today."

This time it was Wilson's turn to nod, glancing briefly at the almost silent hockey game playing on the TV.

"You're actually serious about her then?" he asked after another pause, and House looked round at him.

"Like Snap said, I'm serious as cancer."

Wilson glanced at him with a look of distaste, which was diluted somewhat by the small smirk on his face. "That's charming," he said. His face betrayed the fact that he was still getting used to this new state of affairs, and after a moment he spoke again. "You going to tell Cuddy?"

House grinned. "You think she'll be jealous?"

"_Hardly_," Wilson snorted. "But she will give you the talk. You know, the one about not letting it interfere with your work." Wilson paused for a moment as a thought occurred to him. "You're not going to keep this quiet, are you?"

House shrugged, which was as good as an admission in this context. "But don't _you_ go running to Cuddy or anybody else. We'll let people know, somehow. Maybe I'll carve our initials into a patient."

Wilson laughed and shook his head. "Just give me some warning. I don't want to miss the show."

The two men didn't speak for the next few minutes, watching the hockey in a companionable silence. It was House who finally spoke, not looking away from the TV.

"Thanks."

Wilson glanced over at him. "For what?"

"For being so goddamn irritating for the last five years."

Wilson understood the sentiment regardless of House's offhand phrasing, and made a mental note to log this date in his diary. _I never thought I'd see the day_, he thought.

"You're entirely welcome," Wilson said, and House could hear in his tone that the message had been received.

There was another lull in the conversation, and they watched most of the remainder of the hockey game (uninterrupted, thanks to House's TiVo) with only occasional outbursts directed towards the New Jersey Devils.

When the game had finished, Wilson clapped his hands onto his knees and stood up.

"Time for me to begin foraging for dinner, I think."

House glanced at his wristwatch and shrugged. "I'm not eating for an hour or two. You're on your own."

"Indeed," Wilson sighed, and House grinned.

"What are you two up to tomorrow?" the younger man asked, and House blinked at the idea of now being part of a _you two_ once more. It was strange, but not entirely uncomfortable.

"No idea," he replied, and Wilson nodded twice before replying.

"I'll probably go into work. Insurance reports for the month are due by Thursday. Anyway, enjoy your evening, and have a pleasant Sunday on my behalf."

House nodded and stood up, limping over to the door to show his friend out. Once Wilson had shrugged his jacket on, he joined House at the open door but didn't immediately go out.

"This is _probably_ the best thing that's happened to you since... well, since you were last training for the men's 400 meters. I'm happy for you. And again, please don't screw it up."

House glanced downwards briefly, considering the other man's words. At length, he nodded. Wilson prepared to step out through the doorway, then hesitated.

House was momentarily taken aback when Wilson suddenly hugged him, but he recovered after a moment and clapped his friend twice on the back.

"Dude, _gay,"_ quipped House, but he was smiling faintly, and Wilson laughed and stepped back at last. With a final nod, Wilson turned and went out into the outer hallway, and House closed the door behind him.

House shook his head, but he was pleased. For perhaps the thousandth time, he reflected on how bizarre their friendship was.

_He still cares too much_, House thought.

That was true; indeed, House had long ago realized that he seemed to attract people like that. But it wasn't a complaint. He was always glad that Wilson was around, and he owed his friend more than he would probably ever admit. The cash for the bike wasn't even the half of it.

He put on some music and settled back down onto the couch, preoccupied with thoughts of the past few years, and also increasingly, the possibilities of the next few. By the time a further half hour had passed, he had fallen asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**OK, here you go; the chapter some of you have probably been waiting for. Still one more to go after this (at least, I think it's just one...), so we're not done yet. And remember: all writers are ego-maniacs (especially me), so if you genuinely enjoy the story, please send some reviews my way. :)**

**Cheers,  
-RGB**

* * *

Cameron was taking a well-deserved break from tidying her apartment. It was almost 5pm, and she'd been busy pretty much constantly since House had brought her home. The place was now at least passably tidy, a load of laundry was done, and preparations for dinner were underway. 

_What should I wear?_ she wondered.

A smile crept onto her face as she realized that House would most likely turn up in exactly what he'd been wearing that morning. Which was fine for a man, but she wanted to try a little harder. Nothing too dressy; she just wanted him to notice that she'd made an effort for him. Knowing House, he'd be pleased.

Her mother had called earlier and they had chatted briefly, but she had resisted all temptation to mention anything about the past day or so. _Hi mom, I'm sleeping with my boss now_. She could just imagine the look on her mother's face. Cameron found herself blushing, though wasn't there also another component to the feeling?

_He may be a doctor, but I'm dating a bad boy_, she thought, and laughed aloud.

"I could really use a glass of wine," she said to the empty living room, then shook her head. She was still a little nervous about tonight, though for no sensible reason that she could put her finger on. It had only been a few hours, and there had been no indication of any doubt at all from House earlier. It was good between them and it was easy, and that was kind of incredible given the road they'd traveled to reach this point.

_I'll calm down about this eventually. I probably won't ever take it for granted, but I'll get used to it._

With that, she sighed and stood up. It was time to start getting things ready, and the first stop was the shower. She walked through to the bathroom and reached into the shower to switch it on, to let the heat build up before she got in, then she turned to go back through to the bedroom.

She paused for a moment to glance at the topmost of the three small shelves under the sink, which she had cleared earlier for House to use for any toiletries he might bring. She smiled, and she was suddenly aware of missing him. It had been less than four hours since they were last together, and they'd been apart for much, much longer at various points in the past, but this was a new feeling. This wasn't simply wanting to be around him, or wishing for something that wasn't there. This was simply missing being _with_ him.

_I wonder if he misses me_, she thought. She would have to ask him.

She walked back through to the bedroom to undress, and the smile never left her face.

* * *

House was suddenly aware of an insistent beeping noise from somewhere nearby. He opened his eyes and looked around in the special kind of childlike confusion which accompanies interrupted sleep, but the noise had stopped as suddenly as it had begun. 

He blinked several times, and at last his brain woke up enough to supply the source of the sound.

_Cellphone._

With a groan, he sat up and swung his legs off the couch, drawing a twinge of pain from his right thigh. He reached forward to the coffee table for his phone whilst simultaneously massaging his thigh with his other hand.

The phone's screen displayed an envelope icon, indicating a new text message, overlaid with the name of the sender: _Wilson_. House flipped open the phone's cover and pressed a button to display the message.

"_You're due at Cameron's place in one hour. Get off the couch and go change. This message will self-destruct in 5 seconds._"

House snorted a laugh and hit the Reply button, typing "_Up now mom. Will take garbage out after school"._ He sent the message, and dropped the phone back onto the coffee table as he stood up. It was time to hit the shower. He was about to start down the hallway to the bathroom when a thought occurred, and he paused.

He stood deep in thought for long moments, and then gave a small nod. He limped over to the small table near the main door and opened the drawer, reaching in and retrieving something. He now set off across the living room to the inner hallway, stopping only to briefly open the cupboard door and drop the object into his jacket pocket.

Satisfied, he proceeded towards the bathroom and began to get ready, with a thoughtful expression on his face.

* * *

It was only 55 minutes later when Cameron heard the characteristic sound of wood knocking against wood, and hurried to the door. As she unlocked it, she made a mental note to tell House sometime that she'd make him pay for any damage his cane did to the door. 

Cameron opened the door to reveal House, one hand behind his back and a half-grin on his face.

"Hi," she smiled, and by way of response House withdrew his hand from behind his back to reveal a bouquet of flowers.

"You wouldn't believe how easy it is to steal stuff from the florist on the corner," he said, with an expression of mock amazement. Cameron raised an eyebrow and grinned as he handed the flowers to her.

"_Thank you_," she replied, ushering him in and closing the door. She smelled the flowers and smiled. "Make yourself at home; I'm going to put these in water. Dinner's almost ready."

House took off his jacket and draped it over the back of the couch, noting the enticing aroma of chili and various other good smells coming from the kitchen. Cameron had gone back through there, and he could hear the clink of glass as she presumably took a vase out of a cupboard, and then the sound of running water.

"Miss me?" he called through, as he looked curiously around the living room.

"Maybe a little," she replied, taking care to sound as casual as possible, but she was grinning and he could hear it in her voice. "Did you miss me?"

"Totally," he called back, and her grin widened. _He actually sounded like he meant that._

She came back through with the vase of flowers in her hands and set it down on the dining table. House was still standing in the middle of the room, watching her.

"Not going to sit down?" she asked, breezily, and he shook his head. "Not yet," he said, striding across to her. Without another word, he leaned down and kissed her, and she felt herself relax into him.

After a moment they moved slightly apart, and he looked her up and down appreciatively. She was wearing a simple floral-print dress, and her hair was tied back at the nape of her neck since she was still cooking, but House thought she looked stunning.

"You look great," he said quietly, and she smiled and closed her eyes briefly. They looked into each other's eyes for a long moment, then House grinned and looked away for an instant. The look somehow managed to be both boyishly bashful but also smug, and she felt a small shiver run up her spine.

She was about to speak - the words _dinner should be ready now_ were almost at her lips - when he glanced down at his feet and spoke.

"Wilson came by this afternoon. Asked if I was serious about you."

Her eyes widened and she felt a flutter in her stomach. She felt a pressure to speak, but kept silent. After a moment, he continued.

"I said I was." He looked up at her again, and saw that her eyes were shining. "I am."

She took his left hand in her right. "I'm glad," she said. "Thank you for finally letting me in."

He sighed deeply, but he was smiling. He seemed about to say something else, but he closed his mouth again without speaking. Instead, he nodded towards the kitchen.

"That smell is making me hungry."

"Should be ready now," she grinned. "Take a seat and I'll be right back."

_I could get used to this_, he thought as he went across the dining table and sat down. He involuntarily glanced over at his jacket, still draped over the couch, and his face became serious.

In his experience, things worth having were hard-won. His independence from his parents, his medical degree, even his ability to function and work again after the accident. Those things had been fought for, and the battles had been long and grueling. The rewards at the end were correspondingly significant. But here was a situation where the rewards came seemingly without any equivalent exertion beforehand; there had been no particular price, other than that of honesty.

_But the price was actually paid over the last two years_, he realized. That made much more sense. _And she paid more than I did_.

It was a sobering thought, especially for him, but it was very likely true. This was a time to be enjoyed and celebrated, but also navigated with care, because they were both very vulnerable with each other now.

_Neither of us have ever been more vulnerable, in fact._

A lingering doubt about an earlier decision was finally almost extinguished with that realization. This new situation may be just that: _new_, but it was also well-rehearsed, for both of them. Nor could it be judged in the simple terms of number of dates or the amount of time passed since they had admitted how they felt to each other. And that was good; they could bypass much of the treacherous water of the early stages of a relationship.

_Because we know how we feel about each other_, he thought.

But this brought a small frown. Did she know, really _know_, how he felt? Probably not; he'd certainly given her plenty of reason to perpetually doubt and second-guess his feelings towards her. And that should be set right, because they should be on even footing _her_e at least, where it was important.

His thoughts were interrupted by Cameron arriving back from the kitchen with two bowls of soup. He smiled at her and she returned the smile and took her place at the table across from him. He noticed that her hair was no longer tied back, and he allowed his eyes to roam over her admiringly until she noticed his attention and grinned, blushing slightly.

He smirked and raised his eyebrows, and then turned his attention to his soup.

* * *

House thought that the chili had been nothing short of magnificent, through he was willing to concede that some portion of his reaction may have been due to the company, and the fact that the meal had been cooked specially for him. 

They were still sitting at the dining table, and were slowly sipping hot coffee which Cameron had brought through after clearing away the plates and cutlery from the main course, steadfastly refusing to allow House to help. He had protested, but not very much. As all men do, he secretly thought it was rather kingly to be served a meal and then have it cleared away for you.

The sudden ringing of the phone startled them both, and Cameron said "Sorry" as she pushed back her chair and hurried across the room to answer it.

"Hello?" she said, and after a moment she frowned. "Oh, hi Chase."

House turned around in his chair to look at her, his face showing a mixture of interest and amusement, and she shot him a look. House listened to her side of the conversation with barely concealed enjoyment.

"Oh. Well, thanks, but I can't. I'm busy tonight." A pause. "Just _busy_." Another pause. A short sigh of frustration. "No, I'm not _washing my hair_." A more brief pause. "Look, I really can't, but you guys have fun."

_Chase and Foreman wanting the pretty lady doctor to join them in imbibing cheap booze_, House thought with a grin. He was of course enjoying Cameron's discomfort; his personality hadn't altered _that_ much. He could see that she was becoming flustered; she had even started gesticulating with her free hand.

"No, but I _really_ can't make it, Chase. I... look, I have a _date_, OK? And I really do have to go." A longer pause, seemingly with only silence on the line. Then another brief pause as she listened.

"None of your business! Got to go," she said, and hung up the phone quickly. She seriously considered unplugging it, but in truth she doubted Chase would call back.

_He'll be too busy pouting_, she thought, and she suddenly giggled before she could suppress it. Mildly embarrassed at her reaction, she looked over at House, and then burst out laughing almost in unison with him.

He got up and shuffled over to where she stood, putting his free hand on her waist.

"You just set yourself up for the Spanish Inquisition at work," he smirked. "Or the Australian Inquisition. I think instead of getting branded with hot irons, you have to get into the ring with a boxing kangaroo."

She grinned and raised an eyebrow, but she heart-rate was still elevated. She recognized the feeling well from her teenage years; it was the feeling of being caught doing something you knew you'd get in trouble for. And it was a wonderful feeling.

House sat down on the couch, and Cameron retrieved their coffees from the dining table and set them instead on the coffee table in front of the couch, joining him.

"Do you think he'll call back?" she asked.

"I'll answer your calls for the rest of the night," he replied with a mischievous glint in his eye, and she found herself actually considering how it would be if Chase called again and House answered. At least then Chase (and very soon after, Foreman) would _know_, but letting House answer her calls was asking for trouble. Besides, he was joking.

"Hmm." House didn't realize he'd made the noise aloud until he heard it himself, and he raised his eyebrows in mild surprise.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, smiling as she moved close beside him on the couch and took his arm.

"You still feel the same way about me as you did when we had that date, right?"

He had turned to look directly at her as he asked the question, and she was taken aback at his directness.

"Well, I think I understand you a lot better now, and we know each other better," she said carefully.

"Not what I meant," he replied, with the ghost of a smile in his eyes. Cameron nodded; she knew what he was getting at.

"What do you want me to tell you?" she asked, in a very quiet voice, keeping eye contact despite the intensity which had flared up in his gaze.

House knew this was dangerous territory, but he wanted to hear it from her, more than he had realized up to this point. He shrugged with one shoulder before replying equally quietly.

"Just the truth."

Cameron sighed and sat up straighter, unlinking her arm from his and moving away slightly.

"I need us to be at the same place in this, Greg. I can wait for you, I've shown that I can. We can take this as slow as you need or as fast as you want, but... I don't want to tell you how I feel and not hear you say it back. And it has to be true."

She look down at her hands as she finished, saddened. Everything she had said was true and necessary, but he would inevitably close off from her to some extent because of it. She hadn't wanted the evening to go like this. She was suddenly near tears.

"OK," she heard him say after a long pause, and she glanced up to see him reach behind himself to pick his jacket off the back of the couch.

_No_, she thought. _Not now!_

Hot tears spilled down her cheeks at last, and she felt worse than she could remember ever having felt before. She wanted to reach out to stop him from leaving, but she knew that if he flinched or pulled away, or said something unkind, she couldn't bear it. Suddenly she was intimately aware of how short the last 24 hours had actually been, and she had a dark glimpse of how long the next 24 could be. She closed her eyes and sobbed silently.

She knew he hadn't stood up yet because she would have heard the creak of the couch, but instead she heard the metallic sound of keys clattering together as he no doubt reached into his jacket pocket to find the bike's ignition key. The keys jangled for a moment and then stopped, and there was silence. And then she felt his hand on the side of her face.

Her eyes flew open, and they met his. She saw sadness and self-reproach clouding the blue, but she also saw that intense feeling she'd seen the night before. There was even the shadow of a smile on his face. She was filled with a mixture of confusion and gladness at the feel of his rough palm against her cheek.

"You're right," he said. "I'll go first."

He sighed and lowered his hand, and there was a long pause before he spoke again.

"You told me once that you'd thought I was too screwed up to love anyone."

She nodded slowly, still utterly confused.

"But that you were wrong; that I just... couldn't love _you_."

She looked away for a moment before meeting his eyes again and nodding once more. She had no idea what he would say, but she somehow dreaded his next words. _Is this where you say you don't think you'll ever love anyone like that again_? she wondered.

He didn't immediately continue, instead searching her face exhaustively. His eyes blazed with intelligence and an unreadable swirl of emotions. Yet again she glimpsed the vast and formidable machine of his mind at work.

At last, a trace of a smile played around the corners of his mouth and he looked down at his own hands for a moment.

Not meeting her eyes, he said simply "You were wrong about that too."

_Wrong...? What was I wrong about?_ Her mind whirled, too afraid of what his words could mean to actually see what he had said.

He met her gaze again, and waited for her mind to quieten enough to actually hear his words.

_I was wrong about him not being able to love anyone. I said that,_ she thought.

_He just couldn't love me._

Her brow furrowed.

_I was wrong about that too._

Her eyes widened. She gasped without making a sound.

_Bingo_, thought House, and nodded.

"You...?" she asked without having to finish the question, and then she saw an incredible thing: House blushed. It was slight, especially under a three-day beard, but it was there. He smiled, and nodded.

She froze for an instant, and then threw her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him, and this time he felt no pain at her tears.

"_I love you_," she sobbed, her face in the crook of his neck.

"Copycat," he replied.

* * *

They had simply held each other for more than fifteen minutes, with no words needing to be spoken. When she finally lifted her head again, she had insisted on scurrying off to the bathroom to dry her eyes and inspect the damage to her makeup. The collar of House's shirt was wet, but he was grinning. 

_I must look like a damn fool_, he thought, but that only made him smile even more widely. He only became aware of the small object beside him on the couch when Cameron came back through to join him. It was on his left and she was on his right, so he had picked it up once more and concealed it in his palm without her noticing.

He reached out and touched her face briefly with his empty hand, and even though her eyes were red and slightly puffy and she was now devoid of mascara, the sparkle of her eyes and the soft glow of her skin combined to make her devastatingly beautiful.

_Wow_, he thought, and any remaining doubt about his next action was completely banished.

"My head says this is way too fast, but it just doesn't feel that way," he said. "I want you to have this."

He reached his hand out to her and opened his fingers to reveal two tarnished keys on a plain keyring, and she hesitantly took it with a questioning expression on her face.

He smiled, and it was a small but heartfelt smile. His voice was quiet and yet somehow hopeful.

"All this talk about rooms, and doors. I figured you could let yourself in from now on."

Thought she wouldn't have thought it possible, another tear slipped down her cheek.

"You keep making me _cry_!" she laughed, but her voice was wavering. _Can you go into shock from being too happy?_ she wondered.

He grinned and took her hands in his, closing her fingers over the spare set of keys to his townhouse. "Wouldn't be me without making hospital staff cry," he said softly, and she nodded, making a sound somewhere between laughing and crying. She looked into his eyes, and saw that they were glistening slightly too, and that made her feel even closer to him.

"You make me so happy," she said, and he gave her a look of such surprise and reluctant hope and _poignancy_ that she momentarily forgot to breathe. Then, suddenly, she saw into him as he could see into her.

_His_ thoughts sprung into _her_ mind with brilliant clarity and brutal force. It had been so impossibly long since he had inspired that reaction in another person that he'd forgotten how it felt to _want_ another's happiness more than his own. And now he felt it again, when he had long since assumed that these feelings were a part of his past and nothing more.

_I'm his second chance_, she suddenly realized, and again her love for him surged through her.

She pulled him to her once more, and they held each other. She felt his chest hitch, once, silently, and his arms tightened around her almost imperceptibly. When at last they pulled apart far enough for her to look at his face, his eyes were dry again, and sparkling a particularly vivid sapphire blue.

She set the keys carefully down on the coffee table in front of her, and took his hand, standing up slowly. He got up with her, and tilted his head to ask where they were going.

"Come with me," she said, with a smile that was simply one of love.

He glanced over her head towards the doorway leading to the bedroom and then met her eyes again. Their conversation was entirely unspoken and flashed by in a moment, but they each heard every word perfectly.

_We don't have to... if you don't want to_, his eyes said.

_I want to_, hers replied.

_I meant everything._ His.

_I know. I did too._ Hers.

She smiled.

_I love you_, she thought.

_I love you too_, he thought back.

She gently tugged his hand, and he followed.


	9. Chapter 9

**So this isn't actually the last chapter after all!**

**I'd always planned to reach this point in the story, but this one is also partly written by request of HouseLuvr, in thanks for the very kind feedback; whatever eloquence I may display is more than matched by that of the reviews posted by yourself and others. Ego is my one (and _only_) weakness. Comments always gratefully received. ;)**

**Cheers,  
-RGB **

* * *

House had been lying awake for almost half an hour now, but he felt no particular desire to move. Cameron was again curled beside him, her head on his chest, and still soundly asleep. 

It had been a late night but a quiet one. They had made love, of course, and it had somehow seemed like the first time even though that had actually been the night before. They had lain here in this same spot for some time afterwards, but this time they didn't sleep, instead talking a little but mostly just thinking about the events of the past day, and the new path that had opened up ahead of them.

After a while House had asked if their earlier activity had counted as dessert, because he was hungry again, and she poked him in the ribs. Wisely, she had indeed bought a New York cheesecake, and they adjourned back through to the couch to enjoy it.

House had insisted on putting on some music, as always, but had been less than impressed with her CD collection.

"Where's the Meat Loaf? Boomtown Rats? You don't even have any _JT_," he had chided her, not entirely seriously, before characterizing her musical taste as _PMS classics_. She had simply laughed at him, and he had finally settled on some unremarkable acoustic soft rock.

This had given rise to House enthusiastically delivering an epic lecture on the finer points of popular music from 1920 until the present day. Cameron had initially paid due attention, concealing her amusement at his gleeful curmudgeonry, but as he talked her eyelids gradually became heavier and heavier.

House had paused (in the middle of a section of his lecture he thought of as "_Guitar Heroes: Six reasons why Knopfler is better than Clapton_") to see that Cameron was in fact fast asleep with her head leaning against his shoulder, a faintly amused smile still visible on her face.

"We are _so_ picking this up tomorrow," he whispered, grinning down at her. He had gently shaken her awake for long enough to get her back to bed, and he had fallen asleep only minutes after his head hit the pillow.

From what he could see, she had barely moved the entire night. The alarm clock on her night-stand indicated it was only 8:47 am, and it was Sunday, so there was no need to wake her just yet. For him, however, nature was calling, so he carefully maneuvered her off his chest and he slipped quietly out of bed and limped through to the bathroom.

When he returned a few minutes later, Cameron was sitting up in bed, wearing his t-shirt and stretching luxuriously.

"You've got to wear that to work," he smirked, and she tilted her head and fluttered her eyelashes. House was about to make another remark when they both heard a muffled electronic ringing sound from elsewhere in the apartment.

"Your cell?" Cameron asked, and he nodded, shuffling over to the bed and sitting down beside her. She looked at him questioningly.

"You're not going to get it?"

"I screen my calls; I'll check the voicemail," he grinned. "Besides, if it was really urgent, I'd be ignoring my _pager_ instead."

She shook her head but she was smiling, and she kissed him on the tip of the nose, prompting a laugh.

"Go and check your messages," she said with mock firmness, pointing a finger at him. "I'll start some coffee."

"Deal," he replied, and picked up his cane on his way out of the bedroom.

House had retrieved his cellphone from his jacket and speed-dialed his voicemail number when he heard Cameron's apartment phone ring. He glanced back through towards the kitchen and saw her answer the call via the handset on the wall just inside the kitchen door, but his voicemail service picked up before he could listen to Cameron's conversation.

The somewhat robotic pre-recorded voice informed him that he had one new message, then played it after a short beep.

"_House, it's Cuddy. You should answer your cell._" A pause. "_Who am I kidding?_" A sigh, at which House grinned.

"_I need you to come in today, say around ten? You're three weeks behind in your insurance reports and they HAVE to be in by Thursday. So reports today, or double clinic hours AND reports all week. Oh, and I'm calling your team in too. See you in about an hour._" Another brief pause. "_I mean it._"

House frowned slightly as he flipped his phone closed, but he knew there was nothing for it. He then grinned as he realized that Wilson would be at work today too, and also a certain young Australian intensivist.

_This could be fun,_ he thought, walking through to the kitchen just in time to see Cameron hang up the phone with a long-suffering look on her face.

"Cuddy?" he asked, a little too brightly, and she shook her head at him, smiling despite herself.

"As you well know," she replied, with an equal mix of amusement and accusation. Her brow suddenly creased.

_Oh god. Work!_

She thought she would be able to delay worrying about this for another 24 hours, but Cuddy had unexpectedly brought the schedule forward. The first day back at work after she and House had finally got together. Her stomach was instantly fluttering with nervousness.

House noticed her facial expression and grinned.

"I have these great pills if you need to calm down," he quipped, and she poked him in the ribs once again. _An unsettling trend_, he thought.

"Relax," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "It's just work. You've done this a thousand times."

"But what do we tell them? Do we tell them anything? What do _you_ want to do?" she said, beginning to gesticulate without realizing it.

House grinned yet again at how flustered she was, and thought for a moment and then nodded.

"I need to pick up some case files from my place, so I'll shower there. I guess you'll have to make me coffee at the office," he smirked, and she at least smiled back at him, albeit weakly. He squeezed her shoulder and continued.

"I'll pick up bagels. Don't say anything til I get there."

House had to stifle a laugh as he saw the worried expression bloom on her face.

"And what are you going to say when you _do_ get there?!" she squealed, and he shrugged infuriatingly.

"Dunno," he smirked, and she sighed deeply. He moved to head back through to the bedroom to get dressed, but stopped after only half a step, turning back to her. He looked down at her for a long moment, grinning, then leaned down and kissed her deeply. Her hands shot up to cradle the sides of his face, and he could feel that she was shaking slightly.

He held her until she had steadied, then they moved apart.

"Showtime," House grinned, turning and quickly disappearing through the kitchen doorway, and Cameron sighed again. One way or another, this was going to be a hell of a day.

* * *

The elevator doors slid smoothly apart revealing the hallway leading to his office, and House stepped out and walked about halfway along before stopping. He could hear voices from inside the conference room, and couldn't resist listening in. 

"OK, was it... a patient, then?" Chase asked, and Cameron sighed in frustration.

"I'm _still_ not telling you. Just like five minutes ago, and five minutes before that. So quit asking," she replied.

"Word of advice:" said Foreman, obviously addressing Chase; "Leave it."

House smirked and resumed walking, reaching the door to the conference room within a few moments. He stopped in the doorway as the eyes of Cameron, Chase, Foreman and Wilson all fell upon him.

"Thanks a _lot_ for this," said Foreman immediately in a tone of mild disgust, clearly not grateful for having his Sunday taken from him.

"Didn't we rehearse this?" House replied cheerfully. "When I walk in, you're meant to say '_Dr. House is IN the house, homies'._ Try harder next time."

Foreman simply shook his head and resumed reading one of a pile of case reports on the table in front of him. House glanced at Chase, and the younger man immediately glanced back down at his own pile of case reports without a word. Satisfied, House strode into the room and dropped the large brown paper bag of bagels he was carrying onto the table with a soft thump, then rounded the table towards the coffee machine.

Cameron had already poured his coffee and turned to hand him his red mug just as he reached her.

"Morning," he said, placing his free hand around her hand for a moment before letting his hand slide back to the mug itself, and taking it.

"Morning," she replied, with the barest trace of a grin which she quickly hid again, resuming a carefully neutral expression.

House allowed himself to maintain eye contact with her for a moment longer than was necessary, just long enough for each of them to see the sparkle in the other's eye, before turning to survey the room. Chase and Foreman remained obliviously buried in their respective files, though Chase was now also munching a bagel, and Wilson met House's eye only briefly, wearing an inscrutable expression.

House smirked and sipped his coffee as Cameron sat back down at the conference table, then he set the mug down and shrugged off his rucksack and biker jacket.

"Wait!" Chase suddenly exclaimed, drawing the attention of everyone in the room as he turned to face Cameron. "Was it whats-his-name? The TB doctor guy? On another flying visit for vaccinations and decided to look you up?"

Cameron gave an exaggerated sigh. "_No_," she said, in an irritated voice. "Now stop."

Mustering every ounce of acting ability and self-control, House shuffled forward to the head of the table.

"Was _who_ 'the TB doctor guy', whose name was Dr. Charles, by the way?" he asked, receiving a look of surprise from Cameron.

Chase smiled triumphantly. "Cameron had a date last night," he said.

House raised both eyebrows in a show of surprise and interest, and Chase then grinned childishly at Cameron. At that moment, House had to exercise a great deal of restraint to stop himself whacking the floppy-haired man across the head with his cane.

"Oooooh," House replied, turning his attention to Cameron. "Holding out on the team, Dr. Cameron? _Naughty_," he smirked, seeing Cameron's instinctive grin threaten to engulf her mouth before she tensed her jaw to keep a straight face.

"A hot Saturday-night date with some _stud_ and you still make it into work on time, on a _Sunday!_," he exclaimed, moving his gaze to Wilson, who was watching with his usual bemused expression. "This woman is professionalism personified." Wilson could only nod in agreement, furrowing his brow and clamping one hand partly over his mouth in order to maintain his composure.

"He _was_ a stud," Cameron said brightly. Wilson closed his eyes with an expression of pain on his face, but Foreman and Chase were too busy staring at her, Foreman with a small grin and Chase wearing an expression which looked very much like fear.

"And I still made it into work before _you_ did," Cameron continued, glancing at House.

"Got me there," House replied with a shrug.

Chase opened his mouth and paused, seemingly about to say something more to Cameron, but he closed it again as they all heard the unmistakable sound of stiletto heels coming down the corridor, followed a moment later by the appearance of Cuddy.

"Anybody just die? Because I think they're going to the Bad Place", House said to Wilson, and the younger man grinned.

Cuddy gave House a withering look, and then looked around the table, smiling rather artificially.

"Thanks for coming in," she began, knowing full well that their attendance had not been optional but nonetheless feeling guilty at having interrupted their weekend. "I checked through the outstanding files this morning and I think we can have the reports up to date by around 3. You can take off when they're done."

She glanced meaningfully at House, who had retreated to the whiteboard to enjoy the spectacle of her brief speech. "And not before," she said.

House nodded seriously, seemingly in complete agreement, and turned to his three staff-members.

"You heard the bad lady," he said, prompting Cuddy to roll her eyes; "Only a few hours to go. The countdown begins..." he trailed off, lifting his arm to glance at his wristwatch. He saw to his surprise that the watch was absent, and he frowned slightly. "Now!" he finished, with a shrug, and Cuddy turned and walked out of the room with a shake of her head.

Everyone else in the room was looking at him, as he was still holding his left arm up, conspicuously lacking a timepiece. Wilson's eyebrow was slightly raised in puzzlement. Chase's expression was slightly cautious, as usual, and Foreman was openly smirking at House's obvious surprise at losing the watch. Cameron, however, was wearing a small sly grin.

House lowered his arm again as he watched Cameron very deliberately reach under the table to her feet and retrieve her purse, placing it in front of her on the table. House's brow creased slightly, and his obvious interest caused the other three men to also turn their attention to Cameron.

Cameron was by now rummaging in her bag, and after a few moments she smiled. She withdrew her hand, and she was holding what was unmistakably House's watch.

_This should be good_, Wilson thought, clasping his hands in his lap with a half-grin.

Chase and Foreman watched as if mesmerized as Cameron slowly lifted her purse once again down onto the floor, and then placed the watch on the desk in the space where the purse had been a moment ago.

Turning to look at House, with the sweetest of smiles on her face and wearing an expression of eager helpfulness, she brightly asked "Is this what you're looking for?"

Slowly, gradually, a very wide grin curled the corners of House's mouth and spread across his face until the corners of his eyes crinkled.

_That's my girl_, he thought.

_God help us all. Now there are two of them_, thought Wilson at almost the same moment.

Foreman quietly snorted a laugh, shaking his head and once again looking down at the open case file in front of him. He didn't even attempt to conceal his smirk.

Chase was oblivious to all these reactions. His mouth hung half-open, and he looked profoundly puzzled. The most he could do was look at Cameron and then back down at the watch before he saw Cameron push back her chair and stand up, scooping up the watch as the did so.

She walked around the table and over to where House stood, offering the watch in the palm of one hand and resting the other hand on her hip. She knew full well that the other three men were watching the two of them intently.

House picked the watch up from her open palm. After a moment he met her eyes again, and he nodded. The nod was not simply one of gratitude; it also conveyed a message of permission. She understood perfectly, and she took a breath before speaking.

"You left it on my nightstand this morning," she said simply, and behind her Wilson finally broke into a grin, accompanied by only the slightest of blushes.

The dawning of realization was clearly visible on Chase's face. His mouth still hanging open, he glanced from Cameron to House and back again, and then down at the bag of bagels, not really seeing them.

_Well that's torn it_, he thought. He was surprised only at how unsurprised he actually was. This had always been going to happen. Maybe he'd get some sympathy from Cameron now, but that was it. After a long moment, he shrugged. There were other fish in the sea, after all. And most of them hadn't heard his shark story. He reached for another bagel, and turned over the page in his case file.

_He looks ok_, thought Cameron. Part of her felt awful, and another part felt somewhat annoyed that Chase wasn't more visibly upset, but a larger part felt a huge sense of relief. Chase was sweet in his own way, but he also clingy and had an unsettling _blankness_ to him at times. House on the other hand would certainly never be clingy, and these days she was often well aware of what he was feeling.

Her thoughts were interrupted by House's arm snaking around her waist, and her heart momentarily quickened. This was really happening, here, at work. She smiled without even being aware of it.

"I'm so _confused_," said House in an whining voice. "Does this count as sexual harassment yet?" The other three men glanced up immediately and in perfect unison, and Cameron looked up at him with a blush and a grin.

"No," she replied. "I'll let you know when it does."

Foreman snorted another laugh, yet again burying his head in his case file, and Wilson abruptly stood up.

"_O-kay_," he said, raising his arms with his palms outward in a gesture of surrender. "I'll be in my office." He walked to the door, turning back to face the others briefly. "Have a _lovely_ day," he said, meeting House's eye, and then left.

"Work time," House said cheerfully, and glanced at Cameron. She smiled at him once more and then returned to her seat. House nodded and turned to go through the open connecting doorway to his office, but he was stopped by the sound of Foreman's voice.

"Hey! These are _your_ reports. You can't just leave this for us while you play your damn videogames!" he exclaimed, and House turned slowly to look at him, wearing a thoughtful and slightly amused expression. He opened his mouth to offer a retort, then glanced at Cameron and closed his mouth once more, raising an eyebrow instead.

"It would take less time," she said innocently, tilting her head, and House's eyes narrowed as he grinned. Foreman sighed and rolled his eyes.

After a long moment, House waved one arm skyward and shrugged, looking indulgently at Cameron. The gesture perfectly conveyed an exaggerated message: _Oh, OKAY then!_

He picked up a thick handful of files, and with a final smile he turned and went through into his office. Cameron nodded and turned her attention to her own pile of reports, but glanced up again a few moments later as she heard House shuffling back through to the conference room.

Without a word, he walked around the table until he was behind her chair, then reached down over her shoulder and placed an object in front of her, before turning and once again returning to his office.

Cameron glanced down at the silver and black plastic oblong and then picked it up. She turned it over, revealing a label on the underside. _Nintendo DS_, it said. She grinned, and glanced over into House's office to see that he was leaning back in his chair and looking at her. He winked.

She lifted the small device carefully down into her purse and picked up her pen to resume work on her reports.

She was smiling.


	10. Chapter 10

**Sorry for the delay in updating; we've been preoccupied with family matters here. This one has been sitting around for a little while, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. I just wanted to finish this short working day before moving on.**

**Enjoy,  
-RGB**

* * *

"Lunch?"

House looked up, and saw Cameron standing in the doorway leading through to the conference room. He frowned and glanced down at his watch, now safely back on his wrist, and saw that it was past 1 pm. He also noticed that he was indeed quite hungry.

"Sure," he shrugged, reaching for his cane. "What about Crockett and Tubbs?"

She smiled. "They already went."

"Good. Cafeteria?" he asked, and she took a breath.

"Yep. This could be a little weird for you though."

"Are you kidding?" he smirked. "I love being the center of attention."

She tilted her head in reproach, but she had to admit to feeling nervous herself. Having their immediate colleagues aware of their relationship was one thing, but the cafeteria would be packed with staff from all over the hospital. They would be low-key as possible, of course, but the very fact of House having lunch with someone other than Wilson was news in itself. When you added in that he'd be with _her_, it was sure to be all around the hospital by the end of the day.

_Got to do this sooner or later_, she thought, and gave what she hoped was a confident smile.

They both walked through the conference room and out into the hallway, and reached the elevators after a few moments. They had passed no-one in the hallway, but when the elevator doors opened there were two nurses inside. House and Cameron stepped inside and stood side by side.

"How are the reports coming?" House asked as the elevator began to descend.

"Pretty good. Another hour should do it, I think," she replied.

He nodded twice. "Might get out of here early." She glanced up at him, but he was staring straight ahead, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. She simply nodded in response.

They stepped out of the elevator and allowed the nurses to pass them. As they continued walking, House glanced down at Cameron, attempting to ascertain her mood. She still looked rather nervous judging by the slight flush of her cheeks and the small crease on her forehead, but then she noticed him looking at her and she gave him a very small smile.

"We don't have to do this, you know. We could take lunch back to the office," she said, coming to a stop.

He knew that her nerves hadn't been helped by his purely professional attitude in the elevator, but he also knew that she would have been flustered if he'd made a point of making personal conversation with the nurses standing right behind them. All the same, they were going to the most public part of the hospital, and he'd have to put his cards on the table sooner or later. Cameron of all women would hate to feel that he was reluctant for people to know about them.

_She has a lot riding on this_, he realized. He knew that the rumor mill had been working overtime almost since they had started working together, and his often public rejection of her would conceivably have made her an object of, if not ridicule, then at least _pity_ - particularly amongst the female staff. He frowned at the thought of it.

"No way am I walking all the way back to the office yet," he said, and nodded towards the cafeteria doors as he started moving again. She flushed again slightly, and followed him.

House approached the cafeteria door and paused, finding to his amusement that he was going to instinctively hold the door for her. This brought a further thought to his mind, and after steadying his cane and peering briefly through the glass panels set into the door, he pushed it hard with his shoulder. The door swung heavily open on its hinges and collided with the wall with a loud bang before rebounding. House caught it before it closed again, and held it open as he gestured Cameron through.

She blushed a vivid pink and she walked into the large room, seeing that most of the people inside were naturally looking at the two of them. House walked in behind her, releasing the door.

"Hinges must have been oiled," he said loudly and to no-one in particular, and Cameron shook her head with a small smile, still visibly embarrassed.

"Why don't you get a table?" she suggested. "I assume you want a reuben and some coffee."

House looked up towards the ceiling, seeming to consider this for a long moment, and then nodded decisively.

"You assume correctly," he replied, reaching into his pocket and taking out a twenty dollar bill and handing it to her. She glanced up at him, preparing to protest, but saw the smile that was very definitely in in his eyes and perhaps even slightly visible at the corners of his mouth.

She understood his silent communication; this wasn't simple chivalry. He knew very well that many of the people in the cafeteria were still looking at them. She smiled at him, and he grinned briefly and turned to find a table.

There were several vacant, and he automatically fixed upon one in the very middle of the room, mostly because of his ever-present sense of mischief. He immediately realized, however, that Cameron wouldn't be at ease in such a central location, and instead changed course towards a booth near the back.

Several heads turned to follow him as he limped between tables to reach his destination, and he pretended to be completely unaware of them.

* * *

Cameron had returned after a few minutes with their lunch (and his change, of course, carefully set down on his side of the tray). They were busily eating and so didn't notice Cuddy coming into the cafeteria, nor did she initially notice them. Wilson was close behind Cuddy, and joined the queue just behind her. They nodded and smiled a greeting to each other, and then Wilson spotted House and Cameron across the room. He grinned involuntarily, and Cuddy turned to see what he'd been looking at. 

"Huh," Cuddy said. "Don't tell me House has replaced you with one of his own staff?" Her voice was not unkind, and conveyed very little interest in what she was seeing, but she glanced at Wilson anyway, who met her gaze.

His grin reappeared and he raised an eyebrow as he looked at her meaningfully without saying anything. Cuddy frowned, and then turned back to look at House and Cameron. Their conversation was of course inaudible from this distance, but House didn't look quite as grumpy as usual, and Cameron was actually laughing at whatever he was saying.

_That's weird_, she thought.

Cuddy watched as Cameron picked up a napkin and reached out to wipe a crumb or some such thing from House's cheek, and she saw their eyes meet. Cameron blushed, dropping her eyes for a moment and then smiling openly at him. House assumed one of his characteristic half-grins in response. Cuddy's mouth fell slightly open.

_Oh_, she thought.

She continued to stare for a moment and then she whipped back around to face Wilson. He was grinning rather smugly.

"You _knew_?" she whispered, and he actually gave a small bow at which she couldn't help but laugh.

"Since when? And how did you find out? And why didn't you tell me?" she asked in rapid succession, starting to smile despite herself.

"Well," Wilson began in his rather theatrical way, "a... little bird found out, just yesterday. The aforementioned bird naturally intended to brief you in due course."

She raised an eyebrow and folded her arms. "No kidding," she said, pausing for a moment and glancing back at House and Cameron once again.

"This is a story I've got to hear. Is this _little bird_ any good at making dinner reservations?" she asked, without a shred of self-consciousness, and Wilson looked momentarily surprised. He recovered quickly.

"He's remarkably proficient, actually," he replied, and Cuddy grinned.

* * *

"And... done," House said triumphantly as he slapped a pile of case files down onto the conference room table. Foreman had seemingly also finished his files, and was washing out his coffee cup in the sink. 

"On my last one," said Chase, not looking up, and House crinkled his nose at the younger man.

Cameron picked up House's files and incorporated them into the neatly-arranged piles in front of her.

"That should do it then," she said, and then stretched before glancing at her wristwatch; it was almost 2:45 pm.

"Let's get the hell out of here," said Chase, finally closing his last file and dropped it onto the relevant pile. He glanced up at House who simply shrugged, and Chase immediately stood up, grabbing his bag from beneath the table.

Cameron walked over to House and smiled. "What's the plan for the rest of the afternoon?"

"First stop is the store," he grimaced. "Even Wilson couldn't make dinner from what I've got in the fridge."

She grinned and nodded. "We could take my car, if you want," and he grinned.

"Cool," he replied. "Need to tell Cuddy her precious reports are done, then drop the bike off. I'll meet you at my place in fifteen minutes."

She smiled and nodded once more, then picked up her jacket, reaching into her purse for her car keys. Chase and Foreman were also gathering up their jackets and belongings whilst listening to the conversation.

"Just let yourself in," House said casually, and Cameron looked up at him.

She reached into her trouser pocket and withdrew the set of keys House had given her the night before, holding them up for him to see. Foreman and Chase exchanged a look of disbelief.

"I _planned_ to," she grinned.


	11. Epilogue

**This very short chapter is written as an epilogue, and I think I'll mark the story as Complete at this point, since it seems to have come to the end of a natural arc. I'm not ruling out the possibility of continuing this from time to time, though; let's hear some feedback!  
**

**I thoroughly enjoyed getting them together in my own way; let's hope the show follows suit in Season 4. Thanks once again for all the extremely kind comments and for the encouragement; it's very much appreciated indeed. You've all been great. :)  
**

**Hopefully I'll be able to provide you with a few more _House_ stories to read in due course. There are many other ways that things could have developed between House and Cameron, and I think I'd like to try my hand at writing a few...  
**

**All the best,  
-RGB**

* * *

House grasped the left handle of the smaller of his two bedroom closets and opened the door. 

"You can use this. I cleared it out," he said.

Cameron saw that the entire closet was now empty, containing only coat hangers, where it had previously held several of House's shirts, pairs of jeans and vintage t-shirts.

"Thank you," she smiled, taking his hand.

"Made sense," he replied breezily, with a shrug. "You won't have to run home so often, so I get more home-cooked meals here. And you'll save gas. I'm _all about_ the ozone layer, man."

His manner was as casual as he could make it, but she could see the slightly dazed look on his face. _Am I__ really doing this?_ it said. But she also saw that the feeling behind it wasn't fear but rather a sort of academic fascination at his own actions.

_This is going to work too_, she thought.

It had been just over three weeks since she had turned up outside this very place, and he had invited her in for Chinese food. The first week had been a little odd at work, but Chase and Foreman had accepted the situation very quickly indeed. Wilson was so natural about her relationship with his best friend that she suspected he might even have rehearsed his behavior in his own mind long before.

Cuddy had indeed called the two of them in for a brief meeting the next day, giving the requisite warning about not allowing their new situation to interfere with their duties, but they had both seen that she was genuinely happy for them.

Cuddy had spoken briefly to Cameron again later the same day, when they passed in a corridor, and Cameron had been taken aback at the warmth Cuddy displayed.

"You're so much better for him than Stacy was," Cuddy had said, squeezing the younger woman's arm. "Make sure he knows how lucky he is."

Cuddy had smiled and walked away, turning back only briefly to ask that Cameron also _try_ to make sure House did all his clinic hours from now on.

House had been remarkably good about not allowing their relationship to affect the operation of his department. Granted, he did take every opportunity in the first week or so to tease Chase, but that had quietened down soon enough.

They had had arguments, of course, but House seemed to be learning to temper his instinct for biting sarcasm somewhat. Their only significant falling-out had been when House had made a rather cutting remark to her during a differential, and to be fair it was more due to tiredness and an excess of caffeine than anything else. She had stormed out at the first opportunity, but she had not cried.

She hadn't spoken to him for an entire _four hours_ before he came to the lab and apologized. Those hours had seemed like days to her, and she was pretty sure he had felt the same way. They had kissed, and then he had smirked as he always did, claiming that he was still trying to think of a plausible excuse for snapping at her, which would absolve him of all responsibility. They had not spent the night together that night, but he had called her before she went to bed.

She had laughed when he'd had flowers delivered to the conference room the next morning, bearing only the message "_Couldn't think of excuse. P.S. These weren't stolen._" That night she was once again at his side.

So, things were good. Not particularly dramatic or romantic in an overblown way; that was hardly House's style. But they were stable, and they were comfortable together in a way she couldn't have foreseen ever happening. And they loved each other. He was even getting a little better at saying it.

Yesterday at work, as they were packing up their things to come back to his townhouse once again, he had mentioned that she could bring a little more of her stuff to his place, if she wanted. She had looked at him, both stunned and excited, but not wanting to say too much for fear of breaking the moment. She had simply smiled and nodded, and they hadn't spoken of it again that day.

Today they had left work separately, and she had said she'd be over to his place within an hour. He had understood.

She shook her head, realizing she'd been smiling at him in silence for several long moments. She squeezed his hand.

"Come on," she said, tugging him towards the doorway. "Help me carry some things in from my car."

He had assumed a pained expression, shaking his cane - _I'm a cripple!_ - but she had been firm.

"You've got one free arm, and it's stronger than mine," she pointed out. "Besides, I brought groceries."

He had sighed extravagantly, but when he followed her out the front door, she swore he had been grinning.

* * *

"That's all of it," she said, surveying the townhouse's small entrance hallway as she held the door ajar. She had brought two suitcases of clothes, plus a smaller bag which to House had seemed to contain only shoes, as well as about a week's worth of groceries. Finally, and to House's genuine horror, she had brought a stuffed animal; a bright orange rabbit who was unimaginatively named Roger. 

"Thank _god_," said House, sitting down heavily onto the couch with an exaggerated grimace.

"Want me to start dinner?" she asked brightly, and he was amused to hear how eager she was to do something domestic. _This place just got a woman's touch_, he thought. _By morning I won't be able to find my Nikes._ The thought was strangely appealing, and he grinned.

"Suits me," he replied, picking up the TV remote and turning to look at her. She stood with her hand still holding the door open, looking at him and wearing a smile that sparkled with excitement. House glanced pointedly out at the hallway and then pretended to shiver.

"Were you born in a _cave_?" he quipped, with a half-grin. "In or out."

"Oh, I'm in," she said, and closed the door.


End file.
